Deadline
by NoImNotObsessed
Summary: Bill Cipher never cared for the duties of being a demon. Torture, stealing souls, et cetera. Unfortunately, his slacking catches up to him one day, and he must put out a certain someone's light before this time next year, or he faces eternal torture himself. But the difficulty's been set to the max when his Boss adds a new obstacle: He's now human. T for heavy-ish themes later on.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to Deadline! I want to give a head's up that while I will try to update once or twice a week, I may be late, so just remember that! I don't have internet at home, so it's harder updating than I would like. Hope you enjoy!**

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Bill Cipher drifted along lazily in the vast emptiness surrounding him. For being a demon who specialized in dreamscapes, his wasn't anything to shake a stick at. Well, only if you ignored the multiple screens that lined the theoretical walls, showing various people from one sleepy little town in particular. Some would call it "stalking", while he called it "important collection of information". But that did not stop him from jumping when he felt a clammy hand touch his triangular form. The demon's surprise faded when he recognized it as another of his species.

"Hey... you." Bill looked over the intruder. While the dream demon had changed his form over time into his infamous yellow triangle, this one had retained its original appearance. Dark rags, that were imaginably once robes, covered the figure with only black eyes staring back. Bill removed his top hat and gave the silk a dusting. "Well, I gotta give you credit for finding the place. Now whaddiya need, I got things to do. I'm busy," he said, turning back towards the screens.

The demon's voice was gruff and low. "_He_ wants to see you."

Bill's eye widened and color drained from his figure. He paused for a moment, letting its words seep in. He finally straightened his shoulders. "So, are you just gonna stand there or what?" he growled, knowing this kind of facade would never work on _him_. The imp moved to the side to reveal a tear in his dreamscape, a dark corridor stretched beyond. Heat blasted from the fissure, and with reluctance, Bill convinced himself to float through. Soon afterward, the crack sewed itself back up, and the messenger dissipated.

The isosceles monster looked about himself, a grimace fixed on his face. The walls were lined with cell doors, and the smell of gore made the air heavy. Wails and pleas accompanied mangled hands grasping towards him for help, but Bill kept his eye fixed forward. He passed several demons along his path, and he could hear them all whispering amongst themselves. A few even had the guts to catcall at him.

"Well, looks like triangle man is back!"

"Is he going where I think he is?"

"If so, he is screwed over, that's sure."

"We might just have a new one to throw into the Pits, eh?"

Bill blocked out their words. The hallway was dank, and quite dim. Only the occasional torch and distant pit of fire lit his way. After what seemed to be an eternity, he came across two ebony french doors. Before he could even knock, a voice bellowed from inside, "William." Bill cringed at the name. _Far too formal_, he thought. He hesitantly grabbed hold of a sticky handle and gave it a tug.

He faced nothingness. The room was essentially a black hole, a void. Nothing was around for as far as the eye could see except a small stool, a desk, and a grand office chair with its back turned. Bill closed the door behind him as softly as he could. The chair spun around, and in its seat sat what appeared to be an angel, but something was off. Its covered face seemed to grin, and the hands that poked out from the white robes were crippled and burnt. And its voice was the sweetest thing you could imagine. Too sweet to be real.

"Cipher, good to see you, welcome back. You enjoy your time away from work? How was it? Please, sit down," he said, sweeping a hand to the lowly stool. Bill let his eye give the Morning Star a leery glace before he took to hovering above his seat.

"Eh, good to see you too, Lucy." Bill could sense a scowl from underneath the drapes. The all seeing eye continued, "Ah, it was, you know, I got to see some sights. Meet some people."

The pseudo seraph rose its head above Bill in a dominant manner. "It's pronounced Lucifer, thank you."

Bill shook his head, trying to reattain his normal air of pretentiousness. "Oh, you people, you're all so uptight with the proper names. Lucy is so much more fitting."

The king of Hell slammed an angry fist into the desk, causing Bill to jump. The force from the impact shook the robes around the ex-angel's face down, revealing the unholy, burnt remnants of an unidentifiable face. "_Don't play arrogance with me, fool!_ You have a single duty to your king, and that is to recruit my Army. We need as many as we can get to ensure my victory and my rightful place over ruler of all Creation." He put his face inches away from the inferior demon's. Death was on his breath.

"_You are yet to claim a solitary soul for me, you worthless piece of scum._"

Bill turned his head away from the verbal onslaught. "You're already self-anointed prince, isn't that enough for one eon?"

With a deep breath, the Devil sat himself back down in his throne with his nose pinched. "You know what?" he began, his calming veneer once again in place. "I'll make a deal with you. You just love those, am I right?"

Bill's eye widened. Any deal with Satan was sure to end him. A black finger gestured at him. "I'll give you exactly one year to claim a soul for the good of the Army. And after that I'll let you go about your business." He forcefully grabbed Bill by the arm. Intense heat surrounded the two and the cavern filled with blood-curdling screams. Bill gave a fearful look down at the Pits before having Lucifer whisper to him, "But if you fail, you can join them for the rest of eternity."

Bill was tossed to the ground. He gave a nervous cough before giving his bow tie a tug, a cocky expression on his face. "That's it? This'll almost be _too_ easy!" He was interrupted with a waggled finger.

"Uh uh uh," Satan softly said. "Like all your deals, there's also a catch. And this one's quite the doozy."

The world around Bill fell apart. His vision was impaired, and incoherent sounds and jeering laughter came from all sides. He felt like he was slowly imploding and his form was being stretched and contorted in unnatural ways. He caught one final whisper before he fell unconscious.

"_You will be human."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Woo! I'm late! Thank you kindly for your patience and love.**

* * *

Ringing. All that existed was the wretched ringing. Slowly, swirls swam into his vision. After a few minutes, they became shapes, and shapes became trees and clouds and grass. Bill contorted as he heaved and wheezed, his lungs filling with air for the first time. He tried opening his eyes again. The world spun around him, but he could feel grass ticking his cheek.

Cheek... He almost forgot. The deal.

Bill bolted upright, trying to ignore the wave of nausea that washed over him. His eyes darted about, trying to keep up with the spinning world. He looked down, trying to move everything in turn. "I've... got legs. Feet, toes..." He pushed himself up more. He lifted up a hand, concealed in a black leather glove. He pulled it off and examined the flesh underneath. Five slender digits extended from his palm, and all was encased in warm, olive brown skin. "Hmm," Bill muttered in amusement. He slipped the glove back on before proceeding to try and stand.

He was a little wobbly on his feet, but at least his vision had steadied to make things a bit easier. His head was pounding, though. He leaned himself against a nearby Birch tree and gave his surroundings a glance. He was in the middle of an overgrown field, probably once used for farming but now deserted. At his feet he saw a dirt path which eventually lead to a country road. He sighed. "Well, no use in just standing here and wasting my year." And with that, Bill hefted his weight off the tree and started walking.

He didn't pay too terribly much to the surrounding scenery, he kept himself busy watching his feet kick up dust. He slipped his hands int his pocket to find one brush up against something. He pulled out a piece of letter paper covered in elegant cursive.

_"__Mr. Cipher,_

_I hope that you realize that I made things a bit harder for you for a reason. I believe in your intelligence, but I wouldn't be too terribly surprised if I found you in the Pits one day. I am temporarily stripping you of your demon status. On the bright side, however, you get everything a regular human has: needs for nourishment and shelter, more intense emotions, the ability to die, et cetera. Either way how things work out for you, I'll see you in Hell soon enough._

_You Are Forever Mine,_

_Lucifer"_

Bill scowled at the note before crumpling it up and tossing it over his shoulder. With that out of the way, he soon found his way to a town after a few minutes of walking. He instantly recognized the place and chuckled at his luck of being dumped here. "Oh, Gravity Falls, it is good to be back." A few of the smaller shops were on this side of town, and he decided to go into the closest one. He opened the door to find multiple colorful costumes and accessories hanging stuffed in shelves and hanging from racks. Banners advertizing for the upcoming annual Summerween draped from the ceiling. A woman in her early twenties sat behind the register, texting away on her phone. "What's today?" he called to her.

She blew a strand of purple-streaked hair from her face, not even bothering to look up. "It's Tuesday."

Bill restrained from slapping a hand across his face in frustration. Humans can be so infuriating at times. "No, I mean the _date,_" he spat through his teeth. "And the year would be helpful, too, now that I think of it." The employee glanced up. "Who wants to know?" Before Bill could reply, though, the girl had taken one look at him and a heavy _thump_ has echoed throughout the store, the woman now out cold on the floor. Bill cocked his head in confusion. He was human now, right? He rushed over to the mirror on the counter to see what had caused her so much terror. He scowled when he saw it.

His left eye was a demonic black, with only a dot of red to act as an iris.

With this being a costume store, Bill decided to find something to cover up his ugly reminder of the job he had to do. He had found a bin of spare costume parts, and it didn't take him long to find a silk eye patch. He tied it over his eye with a defiant tug at the end. He turned his attention back onto the mirror on the cashier's desk. At least old Lucy had the decency to make him attractive by human standards.

His face was made up of sharp features and the same olive skin he had seen back at the field. Contrastingly, his hair fell from the top of his head in some of the most blond locks he had ever seen. He inspected his chin to find even more golden hairs protruding from it to make a fine stubble across his jaw. His gaze finally fell upon his "good" eye. This iris was lacking of any significant color; a gray orb stared back at him. He broke his gaze before long. He gave a small giggle to himself. "I could win someone over for 'the army' just with this face."

Bill had bid his time long enough and was about to leave when he remembered the girl. If she wouldn't tell him when it was, then he'd find out for himself. He plucked her phone easily from her limp fingers and turned it on. The lock screen displayed the date. "June 18". The next time June 18th would fall on a Tuesday was...

"It's 2019," he said to himself. As he exited the shop and started striding along the sidewalk, Bill thought to himself. "Well, it wasn't too terribly long ago I was last here, I suppose. I wonder what's changed." He remembered how he had been particularly been fascinated with the town ever since returning seven years ago. He tried to pull up a memory of the the street he was on for old time's sake, but soon stopped in his tracks. His mind flooded with information, more than he could possibly hope to make heads or tails of. His head started pounding again, and he grasped at his hair, trying to get himself to calm down. His eye began twitching madly in the fight to halt the deluge of data.

His mind emptied itself almost as quickly as it had filled, and to his horror he found only a few out of the hundreds of screens were still flickering, and even then the quality was fuzzy. Bill shook his head angrily and glared at the ground. "You couldn't even allow me my intelligence? It's always something, isn't it. You know, this would be a lot easier if you let me do my job properly." He stomped along the path, accepting that he only had common knowledge to go off on.

Fiddling with the fact that Lucy stripped him of the rest of his powers as well, he paused when he realized the direction he was headed. Several signs around him were advertizing for the town's` greatest tourist trap: the Mystery Shack. Bill shrugged. "I might as well." He folded his hands behind his back and stared at the dirt path as he continued on his way. "Now how do you suppose I do this without my powers, hmm?" He could almost hear a voice reply, _"Figure something out, knucklehead."_

"This would be a lot easier if I could enter someone's mind."

_"__There are other ways of doing that. It's called basic human psychology, ever heard of it?"_

"Of course I have, don't take me for an idiot."

_"__What's the one thing keeping people from the grasp of the Dark One?"_ it interrogated. Bill thought for a moment, before saying, "Hope. And, well, not being completely ignorant helps."

_"__Find someone with this shred of light... and extinguish it."_

Bill's face contorted into a macabre grin. "I know the perfect person. And since we're in the neighborhood, why don't we pop on over for a visit, hm?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, guys, bear with me. I didn't have time to upload last week, it was way too hectic with it being my last week of school. I'm off now, so I should have a much steadier uploading schedule. And since several people have asked: as much as I would love to collab on a chapter with you all some time, I've already pre-written most of this story. And as for beta readers, ombbowwttys (I think that's her username, she hasn't uploaded anything I know of) reads all of my chapters ahead of time.**

**All right, all right. Enough dawdling. **

Dipper leaned his chair against the wall, rereading the Journal for the hundredth time, reciting what the pages said before his eyes even fell on the paragraph. He hesitated over the entry for creature #326.

_"__Liar, monster, snappy dresser."_

Dipper grunted at this. "I've seen nicer tastes in clothing before," he hissed to himself. His thoughts were interrupted with a knock to the gift shop's door. It was a rather slow day at the gift shop, so he was happy for the distraction. With his uncle's failing health, visitors were scarcer than ever. Dipper jogged to the door, smoothing out the wrinkles on his dress suit and fixing his fake eye-patch before swinging the door open with a great flourish. "Welcome to a world of mystery!" he announced, imitating Stan. Dipper was greeted with a Cheshire smile and a tip of the hat.

"Hiya, Pine Tree!"

The Pines screamed before he slammed the door shut and scrambled towards the living room. "_GRUNKLE STAN! STAN! GRUNKLE STAN!"_ the panicked boy shouted throughout the house. He flew into the living room to find his great uncle Stan sitting in his favorite recliner.

The old man jumped at the sudden intrusion of his great nephew. "Jeez, Dipper, you're gonna kill me sooner if you keep doing that."

Dipper's twin sister, Mabel, came tumbling down the stairs and into the other side of the room. "Dipper? Are you okay, I heard screaming!"

He looked back down from Mabel to Stan. "Someone's on our porch!"

Stan rolled his eyes. "Sheesh, customers aren't _that_ rare these days, are they?"

Dipper slowed his breathing. "No no no this guy is eerily familiar. I'm not crazy, but he might be a certain _demon _that we've had some encounters with in the past."

Mabel folded her arms. "You mean... Bill? Dipper, doesn't Bill have to be summoned since he's, you know, a _demon_? And we have all the books, and I doubt anyone just said that Latin incantation by accident."

Dipper flailed his arms. "He called me Pine Tree! Who do we know that says that?"

Mabel pointed a finger to his hat. "You literally wear a pine tree on your head. It's like when people started calling you 'dipper' because of the big dipper on your _face_." She gasped. "Wait! Could he be possessing somebody? Did it look like he had liver disease, you know, yellow eyes and junk?"

Stan waved her down. "Hold on, hold on," he started before going into another coughing fit. He pressed himself up from his recliner and rested his weight on his eight-ball cane. "So corn chip's back?"

Dipper wrung his hands. "_Come on, _I need to show you_."_

The trio came into the gift shop to find the young man in the yellow suit looking at the various knick-knacks that lined the shelves. Mabel elbowed her brother. "I see what you mean, I guess. But I remember him being more... pointy."

Stan shushed her. He cleared his throat. "Bill?"

The man in the yellow suit jumped at the sound of what was presumably his name and caught his hat before it could fall off his head. "Um... yes?" he asked.

Bill did his best to look innocuous. _You are humble, poor, needy, and changed _he said to himself. He knew he would have trouble convincing the elder Pines of his plea. Stan knew enough about Bill's "coworkers" to know to avoid any kind of interaction with them. Which would make him a less than ideal target.

Stan scowled at him. "You're not fooling anyone, Dorito face, especially with that 'patch of yours. And that disgusting amount of yellow. Now, you have ten seconds to tell me why you're on my property before I point a shotgun at you."

_Don't be too deceptive; you'll drive them away_. Bill gave a nervous gulp before taking his hat off and holding it to his chest. "To be honest, I didn't plan to. Please, Stan. I have been recently... fired, and I need a place to stay. Just a bit of food and housing is all I need, and in return I can help around the house a bit. Run errands, clean, that sort of thing." Bill finished his plea with a submissive bow of the head.

Stan growled at him. "I know better than to make any kind of deal with you."

Dipper backed him up by adding, "Why should we help you?"

Bill put his hands up in a defensive gesture. "I swear, any business we had in the past was strictly that: business."

Dipper crossed his arms. "Yeah? You've used that card before. And last time you showed up you paraded around town in my body, got me placed in a hospital, and nearly destroyed the very fabric of reality and wiped out civilization as we know it. How can we trust you not to pull the rug out from our feet?"

"I can't pull any tricks like before, the bonuses of being a demon were kinda stripped from me, too. I promise – no handshake, no fire, nothing of that sort. Just, please."

Stan turned his back to Bill and started hobbling towards the living room. "Well, cry me a river."

Mabel stopped him. "Grunkle Stan, wait a second."

"What?" he grunted.

The young woman gave a heartfelt glance towards Bill before facing her uncle. She uttered a deep sigh. "I know he likes to twist his words sometimes, but even if none of that was true we can't just toss him out on the curb."

"Who says we can't?" was his blunt reply.

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Say that you did throw him out. He could very well start telling everyone how the people at the Mystery Shack are very discourteous. And everyone hates bad service, so people would stop coming and we'd go bankrupt. It doesn't help that the medical bills are rising every month, and he's willing to work for _free_. Ever since Soos had to quit, Dipper and I have been doing everything. We could use the help. I'd say this is one risk we should take."

Stan groaned. "I hate it when you're right."

He turned around to face Bill. "Fine, you can stay. Take the old break room. As far as you're concerned, upstairs doesn't exist, and if we catch you stealing snacks from the kitchen you can expect to start living on a bench." He put a finger up to Bill's nose. "And if you even _think _about touching my great niece or nephew, I will not hesitate to send you back to the hole that you crawled out of."

Bill placed his hat back in it's rightful place, averting his gaze nervously as the last threat struck a chord with him. "Can do. Thanks, Stan."

Stan grumbled as he headed out the gift shop, "That's Mr. Pines to you, demon."

Dipper gave one final glare at him before following his uncle, leaving Mabel to fend for herself. Bill looked over her shoulder to watch the door marked "employees only" swing closed. He chuckled a bit out of uneasiness. "Your, uh, uncle can be pretty intimidating."

Mabel turned around when she heard coughing coming from the room over. "I don't hold it against him for having trust issues with you. To be honest, I'm having a few myself."

Bill nodded his head rather absentmindedly. His thoughts were otherwise occupied. Here she was, Mabel Pines. The soul he had been planning to snuff out. Get it over with and go back to the way things were. Stan knew better than to let himself get to close to the indentured "demon", and Dipper had several first-hand encounters with him in the past that caused the Mystery Twin to risk life and limb to right things after Bill's destruction. The people of Gravity Falls were too stupid for their own good, and Bill had an unspoken fear of Lucy not just accepting anyone. Mabel was the only good choice then, right?

"Um, I could show you what you could help us out with," Mabel suggested. Bill gave a quick shrug before following her to the utility room and slowly delving into his thoughts once more. She was right there, but how was he supposed to deliver? He would have normally relied on his demonic powers to accomplish this seemingly simple task, but he found a way to talk himself out of every other option he had. It was almost like she was taunting him; a steak waved in front of a dog's nose but on the other side of the fence. Here she was, right in front of him, with a jovial aura about her, almost ignoring the fact that a certain monster was following her steps about the Shack. The old shack, with which she spoke about with such an affectionate gleam in her eyes. Something about this gleam snagged Bill's attention away from him, and it took him a minute to realize he'd been caught staring into Mabel's eyes for quite some time.

"Bill! Were you even paying attention to me?" A blush trickled across his cheeks when he realized what he had been doing. He gave an embarrassed cough to try to derail his previous train of thought.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it."

Shooting Star had led him to the supply closet and tossed a broom in his direction. "You can start by sweeping off the porches and steps. Then you need to feed Gompers, and when you're done you're on register duty. Got all that?"

Bill scurried to the door, eager to get his chores for the day over with. He rushed a "Yes, Ma'am" before shutting the screen door behind him.

As he swept, the peculiar crimson color lingered on his face. He growled to himself. Things were so much simpler as a demon, even in someone else's body. Anyone's but his own, apparently. He would have to work on reining in these human emotions. He had a hunch they would make things much more difficult than they already were.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, lovelies! Here's chapter four. This past week has been super busy for me (never procrastinate on a costume there's a set ****_deadline_**** for) and haven't had any time to write. Shouldn't be a problem for now, but don't be surprised if the last couple of chapters are more... sparse.**

Water sloshed across the linoleum of the kitchen as Bill dragged the mop across the tiles. The Mystery Twins had been leaving all of the heavy work to him as they kicked back and laughed at him every time he had the misfortune of tripping over his feet when carrying out the garbage or "accidentally" falling down the stairs when Dipper had asked for help with rearranging some furniture. Naturally, he would fume at Pine Tree for making such a mockery of his person. But Shooting Star was a different story...

The ex-demon felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around, nearly hitting Dipper in the face with the mop. "What do you want?" Bill spat.

Dipper gave him a disapproving look. "Tsk, tsk, Mr. Cipher. Employees that are discourteous to their bosses don't have very good job security, now do they?"

Bill groaned, tossing the mop into the water bucket behind him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pines," he said in a painfully monotone voice. "What can I do you for?"

Dipper gave him a hearty slap on the back a sly smile on his face. "So glad you asked! A tour bus just pulled up, and I need a new attraction."

Bill started his way out towards the gift shop, where all of the "spare parts" were kept. "I'll whip something up for ya."

A hand spun him back around. "Wait, I wasn't finished. I need you to put this on for me. You're on in five." Bill took one glance into the plastic bag Dipper had given him and didn't even try to hold back a groan.

* * *

The Man of Mystery, Jr. led his crowd of tourists to the stage at the end of the main hallway. "Now ladies and gentlemen, have I got a treat for you," Dipper said. "Now, I guarantee this is one of the most magical creatures I've yet to encounter, and I have it wrapped around my little finger." He wiggled his pinky and got a couple of "oohs" and "aahs" out of the group. "You've all seen tiny pixies like Tinkerbell, but now I give to you... _the largest fairy to have ever existed!_" The visitors cheered as a blond man in a pink tutu and glittery wings was lowered from the ceiling via a rope.

"Yes, I am a fairy. Whoop-dee-do, I eat pots of glue," Bill said through gritted teeth.

Dipper held out a large bowl filled with the yellow spray-painted rocks from the gift shop. "If you throw gold at him he'll grant you a wish in five years."

The crowd went nuts, shoving each other out of the way for a handful of the "gold", which they then proceeded to throw rather forcefully at Bill. He covered his face with his hands and chocked back a scream when he saw the rocks flying towards him. He glared daggers at Dipper between his still gloved fingers. When the audience had at least begun to calm down, Bill voiced a very irritated, "Pine Tree, this is demeaning."

Dipper nudged the closest person. "I don't know _da meaning_ of that word!" This got a kick out of the group. He didn't hear Bill mutter under his breath, "Sometimes I really hate how much of a Pines you are."

The tourists began to move on, leaving Dipper with the irked demon, still hanging from the rope. With one swift motion, the Pines whipped out his Swiss army knife and severed the rope, causing Bill to plummet into the floor below. Bill didn't bother to comment when he heard, "I guess you are a very _cross_ dresser, hmm?"

"Spare me the puns," was his only reply.

"Hey, Dipping-sauce, whatcha got there?"

Bill shot up like a rocket at the sound of the newcomer's voice, and he was greeted with a snickering Mabel. The chestnut man could feel his chest starting to contort under the frilly fabric as his heart skipped a beat. He felt that uncomfortable heat mark his cheeks and ears again, and he had a sudden desire to tug at the outfit he was wearing, wishing he could change out of this blasted dress. Dipper sighed contentedly, dusting his hands off. "Ah, just finishing up a tour. What do you think of the new attraction? I say it's a keeper."

Bill put a threatening scowl on, his body felt like it was on fire. "_You wouldn't dare._"

"I second that!" was Mabel's eager reply. Bill growled at their amusement before storming off, tearing the wings off his back and that ridiculous tiara off his head. He made quick work of changing into black dress pants accompanied by a yellow vest and black dress shirt before making his way towards the gift shop; he could hear Dipper yelling for him to clean up after a kid who had gotten sick on the rug.

It took Bill an hour and three scrub brushes to get the stain out of the carpet, and when he was done he left the Shack to sweep the dust left by the group. He had just started on the deck when he heard the screen door squeak shut behind him. "What now, Dipper?" he snapped, not even bothering to look at the person behind him.

"Hey," Mabel's voice replied.

Bill paused before nudging an empty can of Pitt Cola aside, most likely left by their uncle. "What?" he asked again, his ears starting to warm. He could hear a sigh.

"I'm sorry. About my brother. He's just a bit... _mad _at you, I guess."

"It's been a month, how long can that kid hold a grudge?" Bill started working on the stairs.

"Really, it's been seven years. I think he's still mad about when you tried to-"

"I know, I know," Bill interrupted. Silence ensued apart from the sound of the broom against wood.

"Why are you really here?" was the question that was finally asked.

"I told you, I was fired."

Mabel shook her head. "No, there's more to it. I can tell. Why?"

Bill grunted at her onslaught of questions. "Because some people," he began, his eyes to the ground, "don't like the idea of free will. Everything must be exactly the opposite of how Joshua ran things..." Mabel didn't notice his eye twitch, but she did ask who Joshua was. She was left unanswered.

* * *

Dipper sat idly behind the register, his arm pressing his Journal against his torso. He looked fixedly out the window onto the porch. Every time his sister's mouth moved, the demon grinned, sometimes he even laughed, even though he never once looked in her direction, always at the ground. The Pines' face contorted.

Bill soon walked in with the broom in hand. He still had his gaze cast at his shoes, which were rather dusty. "Shooting Star?" he quietly asked.

"Yeah?"

"Talk again tomorrow?"

She grinned, walking towards the staircase. "Anytime, Nacho Man. It's not like you have to ask all the time."

Bill's face lighted and he stole a glance upwards. "Thank you." He watched her leave before Dipper took him by surprise and dragged a protesting Bill towards his room by the ear. Dipper smashed the door behind them.

"Bill, what is your deal, man? Tell me straight, why do you keep hanging around my sister?"

Bill gave him a confused look, giving his sore ear a rub. "What in the Realms do you mean, Pine Tree?"

"You spend way too much time alone with her, what are you doing to her?"

Bill scoffed at his abrasiveness. "If you're alluding to the assumption that I'm brainwashing her in some way, then you forget why I'm here in the first place."

Dipper grumbled, "Why do you even go near her, Bill? For the past month it seems like you've spent all your spare time with Mabel. Thinking about possessing her, too?"

"Maybe I quite like her company. Maybe turning human also gave me the need to interact with other humans enjoyably. And just _maybe_ she sees no one else paying attention to the guy with a sense of fashion around here and makes a conscious decision to talk to him herself," he snapped, turning his back to the young man.

"Bill, so help me, if you touch my sister I'll-"

"What? Put in an _elf _costume?"

"Nah, I was thinking more along the lines of sudden death. You said you are human now, right?"

Bill unbuttoned his vest and hung it on the horns of the stuffed jackalope he had near the door. "Doesn't mean you will," he teased. "You need me around from the sound of it. You were skimming bankruptcy before I came here and worked my butt off for you, weren't ya?" He opened a drawer to store his gloves, but Dipper shifted his body weight to crush the blond's hand with a sickening _crunch_. Bill bit his tongue as not to scream, but couldn't help a whimper of surprise.

"Your arm not as durable as mine?" Dipper taunted.

"Pain always felt so buzzy, almost like a pins-and-needles feeling. Now it just... _hurts_," Bill said through clenched teeth.

Thumps could be heard from overhead before the door swung open. "I heard arguing from all the way upstairs, what are you-" She gasped when she saw the situation before her. "_Dipper._ So help me, if you broke his hand I'm making you take that second job at Lazy Susan's until all the bills are paid in advance."

Bill struggled to yank his hand from the drawer, saying, "No, no, i-it's fine, I'll be fine. Don't you worry your pretty little head over me." He gave an uneasy chuckle at the sight before him.

"Bill, hands don't have joints there."

"Eh, would you look at that, I'm... just double-jointed."

"Yeah, why don't you flaunt your new talent at the circus, I heard they were hiring freaks," Dipper butted in. His sister gave him a look.

"Dipper, can I talk to you for a sec?" She led him by the hand into the hallway before heaving a pent-up sigh. "Look, bro, I get that you two are 'mortal enemies' and all, but do you think you could tone things down a bit? We need his help, and you should be feeling thankful that anyone came along when they did, even if it did so happen to be Bill. You can't just go around and do this kind of stuff to him; he's just as human as the rest of us now and we _need_ him to be able to do everything that we ask him to do. And frankly, if you remember, it's hard to even hold a mug with every bone in your hand shattered."

"Hey, I'm just helping karma along here. Have you forgotten what this monster's done to people? Done to _us_? Mabel, if anything I'm doing a public service. What if... What if he was going to slit someone's throat tonight, huh? Well, now holding a knife would be quite hard to do."

Mabel knocked her heel to the floorboards and hoarsely whispered, "You're being ridiculous! Can you even hear yourself right now?"

Dipper held his hands to his twin's shoulders. "Maybe I am, but the fact is is that he's dangerous. I don't want to see you get hurt is all. You're my sister, and I love you. Look, I still don't know what's he's trying to pull, but until I figure it out, I need you to be smart and _stay away_ from him."

Mabel reached up to give one of her brother's hands a squeeze. "You don't have to worry so much, I can handle him. And it's not like I would let him get away with anything. Remember all those bullies back in grade school? It only took a couple minutes for ol' Mabel here to send 'em packing." Dipper shook his head and let a sigh escape before Mabel forced eye contact with him. "Hey, it took a stressed, sleep-deprived Dipper to make a deal with Bill. I'm pretty sure I have my wits more about me than that poor sucker."

Dipper flashed her a small grin. "I know you do, but I'm just warning you, he can be crafty at times."

Mabel fluffed his slicked-back hair and winked, "I love you too, man." She left her twin in the hall to tend to any of the "assistant's" injuries.


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks had passed, and routine had proceeded as normal. Bill would do the physical labor, Dipper would verbally poke at him, and he'd spend a good hour or so conversing to the lady of the house, much to her brother's dismay. The olive man had just begun dusting the few bobbles in the gift shop when he heard a coughing fit erupt from the adjacent room, causing Dipper to burst from his chair and run towards the sound, ignoring the _**thump**_ of his precious book hitting the floor. Bill inched his way towards it.

He gently lifted the pages so they would fall from his hand one by one. _This is my ticket back to normal life_, he thought. He picked the leather-bound book up. That Journal was packed with useful things: his summoning spell, of course, along with the spell for raising the dead and a step-by-step guide to inducing werewolf-ism. It also had, he remembered, an incantation for bottling someone's soul. _If I could just get my hands on that spell..._

His glove's fingertips were about to brush the golden hand on the cover when Mabel walked through, a list in her fingers and cloth tote bag in the other. He flinched, quickly setting the book on the counter.

"Hey Bill, I need a favor from you."

Bill turned, a suspicious crease around his eyes. "Hit me."

"I need to do some shopping but the check-out guy can get a bit creepy, could you come with?" Bill gave a quiet grunt. He didn't like the idea of someone possibly harassing his Shooting Star in the slightest. Wait, did he... Nevermind that. Stupid emotions.

Bill put down the duster. "Wait, why don't you take Pine Tree?"

Mabel sighed. "Stan's not feeling too hot right now. Dipper needs me to go out. So, can you be my boyfriend?"

Bill fumbled with his words. "Well, I-I, sure, but-"

"Thanks, man! I owe ya one!" the brunette said, grabbing the ex-demon by the collar and dragging him out the door before he could further protest. As she made their way to town, Bill mostly kept his mouth shut and his gaze to the ground. Only because he'd been teased by the twins for tripping on his own feet, and he just had his suit cleaned, he told himself.

When music began hitting his ears, the girl beside him started tugging on his arm. "Hey, Bill! Wake up from your daydream, we're going on an adventure! The case of the mysterious melody!" The poor demon felt like Mabel was yanking his arm out of its socket as she pulled him through the streets of downtown. She jerked him to a stop. A small indie band was advertising their CD's by belting their music to the world. Bill only had time to look up at Mabel before she blurted, "C'mon, dance with me! I know you want to!" and then she swung him around to the jazzy beat. He tried to keep up with his partner, but her movements were unpredictable to him. "What's the matter, man? You act like you've never danced a day in your life," Mabel giggled, seeing him trip over himself.

"Well, that's because I haven't."

Mabel gasped. "Well, I can fix that in a jiff! Just follow my lead!"

"I'm trying," Bill laughed, not even attempting to catch his hat from falling off his head. "At least slow down a bit, you're going too fast!"

Mabel reduced her speed, even if it was only a bit. "You want to try to flow with the beat." Bill watch her intently as she clapped to show him the speed of the song. He tried to follow her example by tapping his foot. Mabel beamed. "Come on, try acting less like a stick and dance with me again!"

The duo had gathered the attention of a small crowd by the time Bill took Mabel's hand once again. His grin grew as Mabel led his hands in swooping arcs and followed her steps more easily as she lead him around the street's stage. Bill became so enveloped with the woman before him and the melody, matching every movement she created with his own, that he abruptly crashed into her when the song ended and the performers bowed. The crowd erupted in applause as Bill stared at Mabel, dazed.  
Mabel side-hugged Bill and gave his shoulders an excited jiggle. "Look, man! The people love us! Maybe we should bring this act back to the Shack," she playfully suggested. As she dashed off to go blow raspberries at anyone who might be recording, Bill plucked his hat from the ground and turned to see a band member holding an outstretched hand and a smile.

"Good dancing for the most part there, mate."

The yellow ex-demon hesitated before giving it a small shake. "Oh, you flatter. Hey, what's your price for those, Mabel seemed to really like it, and-"

"How 'bout you take one on us? I'm sure ya girlfriend would appreciate it."

Bill paused a bit, ignoring his hot cheeks, before deciding to let it slide. "Thanks, man."

He trotted back to the brunette after hiding the CD in his coat pocket. He stifled a chuckle when he saw her taking ridiculous selfies with a stranger on the sidelines. "Ma-Mabel, dearie, we've got to go. Pine Tree won't be ecstatic if we're out too long."

Mabel cartoonishly threw her hands on her hips. "Oh, ya big Silly-Billy, always being such a spoil sport. The grocery's just around the corner." As she guided him away, he turned his head to watch the band perform, now with an audience.

Mabel made him look up after he almost ran into a door. "Bill, ya dork, you'd get yourself killed if it weren't for me. Now c'mon, I need you to help carry things," she said, handing him the bag. His cheeks reddened, but out of embarrassment or exasperation, he couldn't tell.

She spent a good thirty minutes weaving Bill through the aisles, picking out fresh apples for Dipper, Stan's heart medication and his favorite brand of oatmeal, along with some blueberries, granola bars for herself, and, when he wasn't looking, a few lemons for Bill. He would deny any accusation that he liked the sour fruit and Mabel would deny that she only found this out by spying on him.

When they closed in on the checkout, Mabel yanked on Bill's bow-tie to bring his head down to her level. "Bill," she harshly whispered. "You are an intern at a fine arts school who's just moved into town. You graduated high school early and got an English degree in college. We have been in a long distance relationship for the past eight months, and to prove that, my favorite color is plaid."

"But, plaid isn't a-"

"Don't screw it up!"

Shooting Star calmly walked towards the checkout aisle, with Bill the Bewildered close in tow. An average-looking man sat behind the register. He scanned everything individually before placing it all back into Mabel's bag. "That'll be $30.26, and you also get a %5 discount according to our 'bring-your-own policy. Have a nice day, miss. And, mister," he said, tilting his uniform's cap.

Bill exited the store perplexed. "Wait, I thought you said he was creepy." "Hmm?" Mabel hummed as she skipped along. "That guy, I though you only brought me was because he wouldn't leave you alone."

Mabel coyly smiled. "Now, Bill, don't go putting words into people's mouths. Creepy can either mean that he's asked for my number several times or it could mean that he can get mad cases of Lazy Eye from time to time."

The top-hatted man disbelievingly blinked. "But you asked me to be your-... Wait, is this your way of," he started, hoping he wasn't jumping to any conclusions, "asking me out?"

Mabel placed a hand on her chin. She drew out a "_Maybe_", following it with a slight smile. Bill shook his head. "But Mabel, I, I'm a demon, a monster. Please, don't-"

Mabel ruffled his hair. "You said you're not a demon anymore, right?"

"Right..."

"So don't say that you are. Person you is different from triangle you. You've really done a 180 in my opinion. So I say person you deserves a bit of attention, don'tchya?"

Bill decided to keep any thought of the Journal at bay for now. "Yeah, okay, I've nothing against that."

Shooting Star pranced ahead of him. "And you don't really think I didn't notice that you're as red as a cherry whenever I talk to you, right?" She shot Bill a mischievous glance, who was redder in the face than she had ever seen him.


	6. Chapter 6

Mabel Pines was as busy as a bee putting up dishes, sanitizing the counter tops, and the like. She trilled to herself a little song, one she picked up with the not-so-isosceles monster almost a month ago, wiggling her torso to the tune. Dipper intruded upon her performance, glancing about. "Hey, have you seen Bill at all yet? He's supposed to power-wash the house today, and I'm afraid he might be shirking on me." His twin sister blew a raspberry.

"Bill? Nah, he wouldn't do that! But now that you mention it, I haven't seen hide nor hair of him today. You think he might still be asleep?"

"He better not be. I'll go see."

"Up bup bup!" Mabel stopped him. "Tour buses will be lining up any minute, Mr. Mystery. You better be out there or your name's 'Mudd'."

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Fine. Just make sure he's out here in ten and counting."

"Yes, sir!" Mabel gave him a rather tongue-in-cheek salute before marching off in the old spare room's direction. She tip-toed towards the door before giving it a quiet knock. "Cipher!" she singsonged. "A bright, new, shiny fall day awaits us!" Nothing replied from the other side. "Bill?" she asked for again, slowly opening the wooden door. Bill lay on the couch bed, on top of the covers and his back towards the girl. He was never given any proper pajamas, just an old Mystery Shack t-shirt to sleep in, which was completely soaked through. She padded over to him. His golden mop clung to his forehead as he took heavy breaths.

Mabel gave his shoulder a rattle. "Come on, Bill, wake up." The man rolled over on his back before giving a soft grunt. She tugged on his arms. "I've heard of people being sluggish in the morning, but this is getting ridiculous." As soon as she let go, Bill's hand flopped back down on his face and started to rub at his eyes, his other hand groping for his eyepatch on his nightstand. "Fine, I'm up, I'm up. I'm sorry, I didn't sleep very well last night, I guess."

Mabel paused as he started coughing. "And how, you sound like death." She thrust her hand onto Bill's forehead, much to his shock. "And you're toasty, too."

Bill shook her off. "Shoo-, Star, I'm fine, just let me go," he said, trying to sit up.

Mabel pushed him back down. "Hold on there, bronco. I think you should calm things down a bit."

The olive man sighed with smug exasperation. "What is it now, dearie?"

Mabel sat on the edge of his bed. "We should mark today as a day _you_ take a new step in your adventures as a human being!"

Bill propped himself up on his elbows, not trusting the rather merry undertones in her voice. He gave her a suspicious squint. "Why?"

She pulled some of his yellow locks off his face. "It means you are having your first bout of illness. Congrats!"

Bill covered himself with his coverlet. "_What?_ _I'm sick? Am I dying? Stay away, I don't want to get you sick, too!_" he clamored, edging himself apart from her.

Mabel poked his nose. "Relax, silly-Billy, I'm pretty sure you just have a cold. Sleep in for now, you've got today off."

"But-"

"No 'buts' except yours in bed. I'll be right back with some lozenges to help with that cough," Mabel offered, leaving him alone.

Dipper was bringing his first crowd of the day through the gift shop, giving his introduction of the Mystery Shack. Mabel sneaked behind him to riffle thought he drawers behind the register. Her brother bent over the counter to see her.

"So?"

"Case of the sniffles. He's feeling pretty crumby so I'm getting him something to help."

Dipper sighed. "So I guess we have no help for today?"

Mabel heard the soft clicking of hooves before she felt a tug at her skirt. "I bet Waddles here would be more than happy to clean up any spills, ain't ya, boy?" She offered the aging pig a pat, who grunted heartily. As she left for Bill's room once more, she shouted back to her brother, "Besides, he should be better in a day or two. It's not like he has pneumonia." Her pig pattered ahead of her.

Bill glanced over to see a pink nose nudging open his door with his girlfriend close in tow. "Paging Dr. Waddles," Mabel said in a gruff voice. "We've got a human here with a stuffy nose and a sore throat," she said, pecking his forehead. This got a smile out of him as he reached for the lozenges.

"Thanks." He was about to pop one in his mouth when Mabel stopped him.

"Before I leave," she said, pulling out her phone.

Bill shook his head. "Oh, come on, not today! You can skip a day, right? I don't even look halfway decent."

Mabel waved him off. "Who cares? I'm doing this for you. Years from now you'll want to look back and say, 'Oh yes, Thank you, Mabel, for documenting my life as a people. She always said to never miss a scrapbookortunity!'"

Bill once again had a squeezing sensation around his ribcage. He'd been noticing it more as time past, it seemed, and it always felt tighter than the time before. The strange but ambrosial feeling turned into a sinking sensation as he muttered under his breath, "One of us will, anyway."

She pointed the phone's camera at him. "Smile!" He grabbed the box of tissues on the counter and gave her a thumbs-up before she snapped the picture.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Guess who has internet at home! This gal! **_**I can post a whole lot more consistently since I now don't have to travel into town to post. And I know this chapter is really short, but the next chapter makes up for it, in length and in character development. ****I'm very excited about it.**

**Cheers! **

"Ugh, Mabel, are you sure I have to do this?"

Bill's shoulder was shaken by the girl next to him. "Yep! Driving's all part of the human experience!" She heard his leather gloves squeak against the steering wheel as he grasped it tighter. "Aw, come on, it's not that bad," Mabel reassured. "Just remember everything I told you."

Bill's voice was wobbly. "Could you tell me again? I couldn't hear you over the sound of my heart pounding in my ears."

She groaned before sitting up in her seat, pointing everything out briskly. "I've told you three times already! That's the break, that's the gas, that's the headlights, that's the turn signal, that's the brights, that's the wipers, that's the fuel gauge, that's the tire pressure, this is the ignition, that thing's the gear shift, the dangly thing's your rear view mirror, and this is the horn," she completed in a breath, finishing off with a bap to the horn that made the ex-demon recoil.

"Okay! I get it!" was his shrill reply. "Just... Give me a minute," he said, taking a deep breath. Mabel blinked. "Bill, we've been in the car for thirty minutes." She rested a hand on his knee. "What's so scary about a car?" Bill gave an agitated grunt. "I'm not scared," he denied. "I just typically deal with more... non-physical things. I've been fine traveling by myself for literally forever, can't I still do that?" Mabel pouted at him. "Sure you can, ya big baby, but only after you get your license. You haven't really existed before earlier, at least according to records. You can do more important human-y things, like get a credit card or immigration papers and file taxes. You _need_ one. Then you don't have to do this again."

Bill glowered. "_Fine_." He turned the key, and Mabel bounced when she heard the engine rumble. "Good! Now it's in park now; put the car in drive and just go once around the Shack, okay? Then you won't have to go near any automobiles for the rest of today." Bill gulped as he drummed his fingers against his palm. He clasped the head of the stick shift. A couple tugs got it to move to where he thought he wanted it.

"All right," he heard Mabel affirm. "Give 'er some gas."

Bill pressed ever so slightly on the accelerator, or so he thought. The car went rocketing backwards, much faster than he thought it would. "THE BRAKE!" Mabel screamed. "HIT THE BRAKE!" Bill looked in the mirror to see a telephone pole rapidly speed towards them. He took both of his feet and plowed them into the brakes. The car came to an almost immediate halt, but not before the bumper bounced against the pole.

Pine Tree came running out the front door. "_What are you doing?_ If Stan finds out you hurt his car-"

"I will end you!" Stan shouted from inside.

Bill looked back at Mabel, both panting. "Let's agree to never do this again. At least not for a long time."

"Agreed," she replied. "And maybe next time you'll listen to me when I tell you that it'd be better if you took off the eye patch."

He shook his head. "Not in a million years."

The air bag on the driver's side blew up in Bill's face. He could only sit there when he heard a camera shutter.


	8. Chapter 8

Dipper held up a roll of orange streamer in the air. "Mabel! Catch!" he shouted at his twin sister who was on a stepladder. She caught it less than gracefully, nearly losing her balance. She tore the strip off and tied it around the sascrotch's forehead. "This might have been one of your best ideas yet," her brother expressed.

"Well, parties at the Shack always seem to go over well, and who doesn't love spooky, scary, costume parties!" Mabel said, the last part in a Transylvanian accent. Dipper held his arms out to catch the streamer roll once more. The Pines twins had nearly completed decorating for that night's Halloween party, and just in a couple hours or so.

Their great uncle peeked inside the main hall. "Wow, looks like you two kids are gonna throw a great party," he commented.

Mabel grinned. "That's the plan!"

"Grunkle Stan, are you sure this party's going to be okay for you?" Dipper questioned. "It's probably going to run kind of late, and people might be loud and-"

Stan waved an arm. "Nah, nah, don't worry about me, I've got a trick up my sleeve for just this kind of situation. I call it 'turning off my hearing aid'. Can't hear a thing without 'em."

A yellow back pushed open the door leading to the hall. "Who ordered the extra-large chips and queso combo?" Bill announced.

Mabel tumbled off the ladder and rushed to grab the bags he was carrying. "Bill, you're a lifesaver. I thought we were done in when I forgot to buy any party food."

He shrugged in response. "Eh, I've been working hard lately for my 'lifesaver' title," he told the bouncing Mabel.

Dipper huffed. "Well in that case, Mr. Work-aholic, you can man the ticket booth tonight."

Bill's arms thumped against his sides and he whined, "Aw, come on, man! Can't I be a part of the party, too?"

Mabel feigned an irate expression as she turned to her brother. "Why must you be so grumpy towards him all the time? Ya gotta lighten up a bit!"

"Mabel, we've talked about this," Dipper replied with a stern face. His twin bit a laugh back.

"Don't worry about it, Bill, I can get someone to cover you when the actual party starts."

Dipper rolled his eyes at his sister's passiveness. "At least be out there until then! People are going to start showing up any minute, and we need a guy out there to take tickets."

Shooting Star was almost vibrating where she stood as she grabbed Bill by the hand. "But first we gotta get get you into costume!"

Bill shook his head and only got out a confused "Cos-" before Mabel jerked on his arm, winding him through the house.

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Fine, _I'll_ man the ticket booth for now. But get out there as soon as you can."

"Faster, won'tchya?" Mabel ordered. "I want you to see it before 2050."

"Mabel, dearie, you'll give me a dislocated shoulder at this rate."

After Dipper gave a suspicious glance to the back of the house as it resonated with the sound of feet tumbling clumsily up stairs, Mabel thrust her free hand over Cipher's eyes. "And you feel the need to do this, why?" he slowly questioned, trying to find a wall with his free hand.

"Because I have it all nice and laid out for you and I want you to be at least halfway surprised."

The blond halted. "Wait, you didn't get me a nacho-themed costume, did you?"

He heard a giggle from the young woman. "Of course not, you wouldn't even wear something like that for even a second."

Nearly stepping face-first into the door frame, Bill struggled to stay standing before Mabel brought him to a stop, taking her hand away from his face. "So? Ya like it?" Bill slowly walked over to the outfit on a chair in the middle of the room. A beige top hat sat atop an eggplant purple dress coat that took the man a moment to recognize.

"I'm going as... Willy Wonka?"

Mabel bobbed her head. "Yep! You don't even have to change a thing about your style! Got your dressy things, your Abe Lincoln hat, and even a ridiculous tie to boot!" she added, holding up a huge, floppy, clip-on bowtie that matched the hat, slapping it over his traditional black one. "And I have been kinda stealing your coat for the past few months when you were asleep to take measurements, hope you don't mind," she added, flashing a grin.

Bill couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm as he shrugged of his beloved golden coat, replacing it with the one Shooting Star had offered him. The hand-stitching along the hems fit over his form nearly perfectly, the pseudo-velvet as soft as peach fuzz. He traded out his ebony silk hat with the tawny one and did the same with the ties. The eye patch he left on. He spun around, quickly running his fingers along the brim of the stovepipe. "Who's ready to eat some chocolate and run into a lawsuit for questionable protocols?"

Mabel bubbly replied, "As long as you leave the Oompa-Loompah's out of it, I'm in."

Sounds of chatter began to waft through the floor. The Pines woman excitedly squealed, pushing Bill towards the door. "Show time, my fabulous dahling! I'll be down there before you can finish singing 'Pure Imagination'!"

Bill grinned to himself, the soles of his shoes clicking against the stairs. Opening the door to the gift shop, he had seen that already half the people in town had arrived. The ex-demon was weaving his way through the crowd when he clipped shoulders with someone.

"Terribly sorry," he had begun. "I'm trying to find Di-"

"Shut. Up," a gruff voice interrupted. The thick body it belonged to started to shake the petite Asian one beside her. "Candy, the hunk's arrived to the party. I repeat, the hunk's arrived! This ain't a drill, girl!"

Bill began to redden significantly, waving his hands to try to defuse the conversation. "No no, please, I-I..."

"_Candy Man will be Candy's man_," the raven haired woman whispered to herself in Korean, readjusting her oval lenses. Bill began sweating at this point and glanced around the room for a familiar face he might be able to duck behind.

"Ladies, please, I'm sorry to say I'm, uh, already spoken for, so if you could-"

'Wonka' was tackled from behind, cutting his sentence short. Mabel was chortling her head off by this point. "Guess who I am! Guess who I am!" she challenged anyone within earshot.

"Hold up," the bigger woman started. "Sky blue cardigan and red shirt all with a teal plaid skirt, you're not Vianne-"

"- Rocher from _Chocolat_?" Mabel excitedly finished for her. The trio of girls all screamed and tried to bear hug each other at the same time. "I'm so glad to see you, girlfriends!" They pulled apart and Candy spun Mabel around to face a spooked Bill.

"Tell us who t'is beautiful human being is," she interrogated. Bill forced a small smile when he heard the last part. Sometimes it was hard to remember what species he was now.

Shooting Star hugged his arm. "Willy Wonka here is played by the fabulous Bill Cipher, who has also guest-starred in the sitcom _Meet the Boyfriend_."

"Shut_ up!_" her friends exclaimed simultaneously. Mabel gestured at her two works of fabric art. "I tell ya, it's hard coming up with a unique couple's costume, but then I thought 'Why not go as chocolatiers?' And Bill, I don't think you've really met-"

Bill bounced his hand in front of the two women. "No, wait, I think I remember your names," he began. "I had a run-in with you back at that, uh, the sock play way back when. You," he said, pointing a finger at the young Asian woman. "You said you're Candy, right? So that must make you," he began, looking at the other before raising his eyes in thought. "Garcia? No, Grenda. You two helped put it all together, didn't you?" He huffed. "Yeah, last time definitely wasn't anything remotely good. It was a lovely play, I'm sorry I kinda crashed it."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Gabe was a weirdo anyway."

"I've never seen you 'round here before, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember a handsome mug like yours!" Grenda told him. She gasped. "Oh my gosh! Are you psychic or something?"

"The situation was weird to say the least," Bill replied, wringing his hands. "And, well, I'm not really anymore, but-"

Grenda nearly tackled the poor man to the ground. "**What else do you know about me? Do I get to marry someone hot like you?**"

The sudden jostle nearly shook Bill's bowtie off. Straightening it, he answered, "I know your date from Austria didn't go over well, but I'm only gonna tell you that you might wanna keep your eyes peeled for a very well-off man from upper Washington. Now please, no more-" He was, unfortunately, cut short.

"_**Hey everyone!**_" Grenda's booming voice reverberated off the wooden walls. "_**This guy can tell you your future!**_"

By the time the words left her lips, at least half of the crowd has squeezed around the blond man. He began to fully panic when the gathering started shouting over each other and pushing each other out of the way, pulling Mabel apart from him. He held a hand out to her, but she was quickly swallowed up by the sea of people. In a shaky voice he began to rattle off responses for whoever could hear him like a programed machine.

"You only get your dream job after years of manipulation."

"You dropped out of high school twice."

"You hate heights because someone once pushed you off a playground set."

Twitch.

"Stay away from dogs tomorrow."

"Your internet career will only last a couple weeks."

Twitch.

"Your sibling had once convinced you that mustaches made people evil."

Twitch.

"You..." he trailed off. The tall, lanky man before him furrowed his brow in worry. "What is it? Am I going to die or something?"

Bill paused, before quietly asking, "You have a fear of angels?"

The man nodded, saying, "Yeah, just the whole idea of guardian angels, you know, of something always watching you is a little freaky. And I've heard stories of them having, like, tons of wings and-"

Bill had stopped listening by this point. "You would have been killed in an accident on the way over here if it weren't for Jehoel."

The man cocked his head. "So, what does this have to do with my future, or whatever?" he never got a response. Bill's uncovered eye was madly darting back and forth across the floor, dragging memories from an old corner of his mind. "I only ever talked to some of them. Jehoel used to be a friend of mine. Michael, Uriel, Dumah, Incubus." He rubbed his head, desperately trying to ease the pounding. "No, no, Incubus fell. Morax, Orias, they all... they all fell."

Mabel had been fighting against the shoves of the group for the past century, it felt, and she broke through in time to see a shuttering figure underneath a handmade purple dress coat. "They fell," she could hear Bill hoarsely whisper, tears streaming down his cheek. "They all fell and burned and I-I..." Mabel wrapped her arms around him, his spasms shaking her. She gently tugged him towards the safety of outside. The mass of people followed the two to the "Employees Only" door, causing Mabel to shriek, "Quit! Leave him alone! He won't be doing this for the rest of tonight, or ever again for that matter! Go find something else to entertain yourself with!" She then slammed the door in their faces, emphasizing her point.

There was only a short distance between Mabel and the door leading to the house's side porch. Shooting Star slowly led a still-trembling Bill through the screen door and let it squeak shut behind them. Bill's legs buckled underneath him when he reached the steps leading down into the yard. The crisp October evening wind chilled him to the bone, but also seemed to numb his mind, allowing the screens to once again become fuzzy. Mabel sat down next to him. "Hey, what happened? You wanna talk about it?"

Bill sat in silence, mulling over his thoughts. Mabel sat with him, her head on his shoulder. The sun had long since set below the horizon when the Blond turned to face Mabel. He held her by the arms; she could tell that what he was about to say was very serious.

"Shooting Star, you have to promise me, _really_ promise me, that you will believe everything I tell you in the next couple of minutes. I'm not telling you this so you can pity me or anything, but because I think it's time you learned this about me."

Mabel slowly nodded, not used to his tone of voice. "I... I promise."

Bill slumped forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees. He took a very full breath of air and closed his eyes. "I never wanted this," he murmured. "I never _asked_ to become a demon." Bill forced a quiet laugh. "You should have seen Heaven, Mabel. You would love it. The mansions for people who didn't live there yet, the colors we can't imagine, and the warm light everywhere. We angels didn't do very much at the time, but we lived in bliss even doing the most seemingly mundane things."

Mabel sat to face him fully, deeply intrigued. "Wait, you were an angel?"

Bill examined the ground. "All demons are, or at least, we were once. There was one day, though..." He paused, squeezing his eyes shut. "Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at first. But there was a lot of shouting. I turned to see a huge mass of angels, including several I knew, destroying things in a rage, setting things on fire, and at the head of the group I could see the Head Angel, Lucifer, leading the charge. They were headed for the throne room. Scared, but naturally curious, I followed them. I heard that it started out as a 'peaceful protest'. They kicked down the doors, and Lucifer, he started screaming. Screaming about how unjust it was that_ He_ got to rule over two realms and millions of species, while Lucifer only got the angels. It was terrifying, as I never had a fleeting thought against _Him, _and I had never seen such rage before."

Bill hung his head, running the scenes of chaos though his mind repeatedly. Mabel gently tugged his sleeve. "What happened after that?"

He took off his hat, resting it beside him. "It infuriated_ Him_, that was obvious. I didn't see anything after that, the light was so bright I had to cover my eyes. But everyone that followed Lucifer into the Throne room that day was cast out. Everyone... including me. The last thing I remember seeing was Joshua near tears as he watched me... fall. I could almost feel myself being dragged down."

"Was Joshua another angel?"

"No, He's... more, much more than just an angel. He would often come to be with us, showing us any new things He might have made that day. I only ever saw Him once after the Rebellion, way back in the middle of the Roman Empire. He had decided to walk a mile in some human sandals, see how you all live. He was completely surrounded by guards, one of His friends tried to chop a guy's ear off, everyone there is flipping their tops in one way or another, and yet somehow He still tosses a smile my way."

Mabel cocked her head. "Wait, He got arrested? Why? He sounds like a good guy."

Bill looked her in the eye. "That was... _sort_ of the problem."

Mabel sat with her forehead wrinkled, trying to comprehend what he meant. Her jaw parted as she whispered an _Oooohhh,_ making the connection.

Bill looked away, realizing his mistake. "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry, I guess 'Joshua's just a closer translation to what I'm used to calling Him."

Mabel looked on, watching the wind kick up a few stray leaves in its path. "So, what happened to the other angels that fell?"

Bill waved a gloved hand in a circular motion. "Oh, ya know, some of them like to misplace car keys, pretend to be ghosts, or destroy relationships, but ol' Lucy took over the human race and is building an army of lost souls while planning to destroy everything we know and love. Just regular demon things." He looked up at the few stars that were appearing. "Heh, there are some days I'd give anything to see the guys again, ya know? Anyone I was friends with who fell with me seemed to change overnight. Got a special kind of resentment against them all. Spent thousands of years distancing myself as much as possible, even discovered an uninhabited sliver of reality I decided to call my own. But it all finally caught up to me, probably with all the attention I'd snagged myself seven years ago."

"But wait, you nearly destroyed everything. Why would you do that if you hate being a demon?"

Bill looked her in the eyes and forced a small chuckle before pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know it sounds like a really _freaking_ stupid idea looking back on it now, but I thought, maybe... If I had even just attempted to do so, attempted the apocalypse, I could have shaken Lucy off my tail for _good_. I knew I would never win, I just thought he... He would leave me alone for good if I showed him I could try to be a demon." He sighed, hanging his head. "I thought wrong. Apparently he wasn't satisfied with 'almost'."

Mabel sat for who knows how long, stewing in the massive information dump she had been given. "I'm sorry," was all she could find to say.

The music from the Shack grew in volume and Bill gave her shoulder a nudge. "You do know a dance competition is probably starting right now and you're missing out on it, right?"

Mabel shook her head. "Nah, I'm good, all the music's just synthesized dubstep, anyway," she replied, giving Bill a small, genuine smile. He could do nothing but return her one.

Bill stood up in the grass, offering Shooting Star a hand. "C'mon. I know you want to." She pulled herself up and let Bill lead her out to a patch of dry dirt. They put their arms around each other and swayed to their own beat. Bill grimaced as he sneaked a glance through one of the windows leading to the main hall, colored lights dancing on the vibrating glass pain. "Hey," Mabel said, feeling him begin to shiver again. "Everything's gonna be okay."

Bill shut his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he breathed.

_Everything's okay._

**A/n: Wow, so okay. That happened.**

**But friggin-that new episode.**

**Okay, screw it. Screw it.**

**This is now officially an AU where -*spoilers*- everything goes happy, they keep the Shack, and ****_nobody dies_**** -*end spoiler zone*-**

**So yep. Backstory. ****_Finally_****. So I've never seen this kind of backstory use for Bill before, so I wanted to try it out. The closest thing I had come across for anything similar was an ask to someone else in the Bill Cipher tag about BiblicalDemon!Bill, and that was a month or so after I started writing.**

**And I'm an absolute sucker for any sort of redemption for characters. Be expecting more of that.**

**Now, I'll be visiting my aunt and uncle for the next week, so I won't be updating during that time. But, I will be seeing you the week after that.**

**Cheers!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Wow a week turned into a month. If only summer vacation acted the same way. *sigh***

**Well, even though I still have a few chapters left in my arsenal, I'm gonna run out sooner than later, and sad to say sparse updates like this might become more common. I'll try my best to put that off for a while, though.**

* * *

A wide yawn stretched across Shooting Star's face as she pulled her arms towards the ceiling. The clock on the table read it was 8 in the morning as she swung her legs off the bed, her dry mouth giving a smack. "Good morning, Daryl," she acknowledged the clump of mold on the rafters as she crossed the room, which had grown quite a bit since her first naming it. Her feet thumped heavily down the stairs, her hand smoothing her nightdress absentmindedly.

Mabel made the short way to the kitchen and found herself facing Cipher, in his more casual yellow vest, his face buried behind a newspaper. He glanced up to see who was the owner of the footsteps he heard, before quickly looking back down at the article he was reading. "Morning, Shooting Star," he greeted. She returned the hello.

"Won't the Shack be open today?"

"Nah, it's Sunday."

"Oh, well I went ahead and cleaned everything anyway. I was up early and, well, idle hands are the Devil's tools."

"Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Eh, a piece of toast, but if you want to put something a bit more... appropriate on, we could grab something at the Diner. My treat," Bill suggested, his eye still on the newspaper.

Mabel looked down at her attire, which was only her beloved fleece pajamas. "Oops! Yeah, I'll be right back. Sucks that adults can't have PJ days," she said to him, running up the steps two at a time.

* * *

Laughter came from the window booth, the two occupying it biding their time as they waited for their orders. The young woman swung her arms dramatically, finishing her story to the man across from her. "So now not only the principle, but half of the entire _school_ thinks I'm part of some vegan cult, and for two whole months I couldn't walk to a class without someone shouting 'Salami!' at me. It was crazy!"

Bill had to choke back his laughter to even semi-coherently say, "I swear, Mabel, you should write a book about this stuff, you'll make millions."

Mabel twirled a packet of sugar between her fingers. "Yeah, but in all honesty I doubt I have that kind of patience. I sit down at a computer with my 'laser focus' and I'll end up watching cat videos before the drop of a hat." She looked Bill in the eye. "You know, if either of us should write an autobiography, it should be you. 'Life Through the Eye of a Dream Demon'. Who knows, it could go big."

Bill shook his head. "Or go home. As in I'd probably be burned at a stake at best. I mean, people would have one of two reactions: one, the supernatural-loving committee takes over early enough and a couple cults or whatever start a fan club, or two, where the mob gets rallied and I'm chased across the countryside with a pitchfork in my back.

"Besides," he paused, taking a sip of his water. "Most of my life's story is just me and crippling loneliness." He cleared his throat and propped himself up in the booth. "On the topic of school earlier, what's going on with you and Dipper? You two were always so smart and you're both, what, twenty now? I thought you'd be well into college by this point."

Mabel sighed, her back slouching against the cushion. "Yeah, well, when you're fresh outta high school and you hear that your favorite uncle's got one foot in a grave and the other on a banana peel, you, uh, ya just gotta put things on 'pause' for a while." She glanced down at the packet, letting it fall through her fingers. "It's not like we'd have the kind of money for college now, anyway. Anything we can spare goes straight to keeping the lights on."

Bill's head shook. "Mabel, I'm so sor-"

He didn't finish before a plate of eggs was dropped in front of him. "Food!" he heard the one-eyed woman announce. Shooting Star smiled back. "Thanks, Lazy Susan." The aging lady gave Bill's cheek a pinch. "Ooh, and your boyfriend is such a pretty thing! I remember I had one with an eyepatch, too. Must be some kind of fad." Bill sat politely, but awkwardly, smiling at Mabel waiting for Susan to let go. She finally did, giving his hair a ruffle. "Enjoy!"

Bill rubbed his cheek. "Sheesh, has she always been like that?"

Mabel gave him a shrug, pouring syrup on her pancakes. "Yeah, I guess so. You'll learn to like it." She glanced down at the coffee omelet he had ordered. "Uh, you sure you're gonna eat that? You can have my pancakes if you don't like it," she offered.

He waved his fork at her. "Nah. I mean, you got your protein and your bean water all in one, how bad can it be?" He took a bite before immediately gagging and spitting it out into his napkin.

"Here," Mabel sighed, pushing her plate towards him.

Mabel peered outside their window. "Hey, do you remember if the weather report said anything about it snowing today?"

Bill followed her gaze to the street beside them. A layer of snow had begun to dust the ground and the figures nearby. "No, but then again, I don't typically pay a whole lot of attention to that. But still, isn't it a bit early for snow? It's the beginning of November."

She bounced her head indecisively. "Eh, I guess so. There can be times where we get something light before the holidays."

Bill threw an elbow over the booth's back, a smirk on his face. "All right, here's a stupid couple-y question: what's your favorite season?"

Mabel buried her head in the collar of her sweater. "Definitely summer. I can't stand being cold. Why do you think I wear sweaters all the time? How 'bout you?"

"If I had to pick, it's probably be winter. I dunno, the whole serenity of the snow, the quiet, the world just seems more black-and-white. Reminds me of home," he answered, beginning to eat Mabel's generous gift of pancakes.

The restaurant filled with the chorus to _Taking Over Midnite_, leading Mabel to dig for her cellphone in her purse. She held it up to her ear. "This is the Gravity Falls morgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em! Mabel speaking." Through his chewing, Bill could hear shouting on the other end of the line. "What? No, we're not at the morgue. Yeah, I'm out with Bill. He offered break- no, we're at the diner. I'm fine, ya worry-wart. Well, maybe not, huh? Ever think of that? No, stay there, we're coming home. I'll see you in a few," she ended, pressing the hang-up button.

"Who was that?" Bill asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

Mabel dropped the phone back in her purse. "The bro-bro. He's having a bit of a freak-out session. Shovel the rest you want, we'd better get going about now."

Mabel and Bill had hardly closed the Shack door behind themselves when they were met by a clearly disgruntled Dipper. His fists were balled, the sole of his shoe impatiently tapped the floor, and the glare he had on burned a hole through the wall. Bill attempted to break any ice. "Hiya, Pine Tree?"

"Bed empty. No note. Both of you, _gone_. You could have _died_, Mabel."

The Pines woman rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Dipper, can you even hear yourself?"

Her brother stormed up to her. "Oh, I'm hearing myself loud and clear, but I'm worried if you're even listening to me. Mabel, I've told you about him countless times. I turn back for one second and you're out making friends with the _demon_." He jabbed a finger into Bill's chest, pushing the blond away. "The same demon, may I remind you, who manipulates, lies, and makes people lose their sanity just for the fun of it," he snarled.

Bill swatted his hand away. "Besides you, has anyone even come close to losing their marbles since I've been here? No!" He cupped a hand around an ear. "Wait, what's that? You're insulting me? Well, _te audire non possum, musa sapientum fixa est in aure_!" he shouted, wiggling his pinky in his ear for emphasis.

Dipper turned back to his twin. "And I can't believe you went up and bought food at the diner. You know that's not in our budget!"

Mabel threw her hands up. "Chill, we got it covered."

"I paid with my own money, we're still good," Bill added in.

Dipper gave him a confused look. "How? I don't pay you."

Bill responded by pulling out a large sack of coins and crumpled dollar bills from his pocket. "I get a _lot_ of tips." The Mystery Twins also watched as several pieces of scrap paper fell to the ground. "And quiet a few phone numbers too, now that I think about it."

Dipper reached down to pick them up. "Hey, this is perfect! Call those numbers up, tell 'em you're taking them on a date here. We've got guaranteed customers for the first time in weeks!"

Bill froze. "Oh, uh, I mean, I couldn't possibly do that," he trailed, wringing his hands.

"Why? We just established you're a liar. How hard could it be?"

"It's just, I don't think I should-"

Dipper locked his gaze on him. "What?" he challenged.

Bill anxiously glanced back at Mabel, who was quickly shaking her head. This didn't go unnoticed by Dipper.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

Bill paused, taking a deep breath before he blurted, "_I'mnotcomfortablecheatingonMabel, okay_?"

Mabel slapped a hand over her face.

The triangle man bit his lip when he saw his boss growing red with rage. "What do you mean, _cheating_? Mabel, explain. Now."

Brunette locks fell in front of her face as the girl in question hung her head. "I may or may not have asked him out. And he may or may not had said 'yes'. And my friends may or may not have declared us a 'thing' on twitter."

"_How long has this been going on?_"

"Since August," Bill mumbled. "But I swear I haven't-"

Dipper flung himself at Bill. "_IF I FIND OUT YOU'VE TOUCHED MY SISTER AT ALL I'LL TAKE YOUR HEAD AND SHOVE IT WHERE THE SUN DON'T SHINE!_"

Bill squealed in fright, fleeing from his pursuer. "Cross my heart, I haven't Known her, all I've seen are her knees _I swear!_"

* * *

**Dang it, Bill, you are not helping.**

**But for those of you who take Latin or have access to Google translate, go look up that phrase. It's a nice one to know. I heard it was once fairly common.**

**Cheers.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow. It's been since August? Really? I don't have much of an excuse this time, so I'm very sorry. The router finally kicked the bucket, so I have to download everything to a flash drive if I want to update anything. I also got distracted with a bunch of REALLY old fics I found on my iPod, and I might post those for laughs later. Mostly Total Drama.**

**Anyway, that Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future trailer. **** I'm ready to get rek't.**

* * *

"Who's got the list?"

Mabel faced the blond beside her. "I gave it to you last, right?"

Bill pulled a sheet of legal paper from his coat pocket. "You would be correct. Now let us see," he said, staggering his words to match the beat of his tapping the paper in thought. "Do we have the drinks?"

Mabel held up a twelve-pack of Pitt cola. "Check!"

"Snacks?"

"Check!" she affirmed while shaking the basket of chips, popcorn, and lemons, one falling on the ground.

"Comfort necessities?"

"I almost forgot!" Mabel rushed over to the storage closet they had. She opened it, taking the biggest armful of spare blankets and pillows she could muster. She was carrying them back when she heard Bill shout, "Mabel! Look-"

Before he could finish, the blankets went flying from her arms as she tripped herself over the lemon she had left on the ground. The olive-toned man dashed over to remove the blankets that had fallen on top of her. "Are you okay?" he asked, taking the last blanket off her face. He got a grin for a reply, along with a bubbly "Check!"

A newspaper was swatted against the back of his head. Bill yelped in surprise. "Several benches just became reserved for you if you keep the mush up," Bill looked up to see Stan say. "Now I want to go the rest of the night _without_ me throwing up in my mouth," the elderly man grumbled before making his way to the living room.

Bill looked back down at the brunette below him, worry scrunching his face as he mouthed the words "_What'd I do?_"

Mabel rolled her eyes, both at Bill and her great-uncle.

The two carried in the supplies from the kitchen to the sitting area. They dumped the blankets onto the carpet in front of the television and the snack basket atop the dinosaur skull beside Stan in his chair. They sat down on the floor in front of him. "Hey," Mabel started. "Where's Dipper?"

The man in question thumped down the stairs, the orange t-shirt he had on stained in coffee. His mouth contorted in a stifled yawn "Hey, guys. Did I miss lunch?"

Stan looked him over. "Kid, it's been dark out for at least an hour. What've you been doin' all day?"

Dipper plopped himself down in the small amount of space between Mabel and Bill, rubbing the back of his hands across his face. "Are we doing the movie thing already? Ugh, I was up all night trying to find a cheap college that's good enough to let me get into medical school."

"Any luck?"

Dipper leaned his head back onto the recliner and slowly shook it. "The best one I could find was near Sacramento, and even then we wouldn't be able to afford it in the next ten years at this rate."

Mabel shook her brother, making him jump out of falling asleep. "Focus, Dipper! This is supposed to be a _family_ thing, which means no sleeping!"

"St- Mr. Pines," Bill started. "What are we gonna watch?"

Stan picked up the remote, grinning. "I hear a classic's supposed to be on tonight." The TV turned onto the Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Boring Movie Channel, where a "The Duchess Approves" marathon was just beginning. The three on the floor groaned.

A commercial for the channel caught Mabel mid-gripe. A lady voiced over a scene from one of the movies playing that night. "_Remember this Thanksgiving to remind yourself of the things you are thankful for. We're thankful we still have viewers. Happy please-watch-our-channel-since-you-obviously-have-no-one-to-celebrate-Thanksgiving-with Day!_"

"**Oh my gosh Thanksgiving's **_**today**_**?**" Mabel just about shouted.

Her Grunkle unhappily grunted. "So? It's not like we had the money for a turkey or anything like that."

Mabel bent her head back to look at Stan upside-down. "_So_? We still all need to tell everyone something we're grateful for! You start," she said, bumping Dipper's shoulder with her own.

"Caffeine," he dragged out, letting loose another yawn.

"Okay..." Mabel pointed pointed up to her great-uncle. "Now you, Stan!"

Stan scratched at his scruff. "Eh, as much as I hate saying this, I'd have to say I'm thankful that Cipher here came along when he did. I'm pretty sure if he didn't you two would be on the streets by now." Bill's eyes lit up when he heard that.

Mabel tapped her chin. "I'm grateful for... times just like these! When I get to hang out with all the people I love." Dipper glanced at Bill beside him, who was peeling himself his favorite fruit, and crossed his arms with a "hmph".

Mabel, ignoring her brother's aggravation, looked over him to see Bill put a slice of fruit in his mouth. "What're you thankful for? Is it lemons?" she teasingly asked.

Bill gave a lighthearted chortle before swallowing the sour citrus. "Well yeah, I think they're greatly under appreciated, but I'm most grateful for..." He trailed off.

He hadn't ever really thought about it before. Over the thousands of years he'd been around, he could think of endless things to hate. Being stripped away from his everything he ever knew, centuries of loneliness, finally being caught by Lucifer. But... there was also what he had now to think of. He wasn't lonely, he had the security of a home and at least one person who cared about him, and the memory of a smile from a Friend all those years ago.

"I guess," he began. "I guess I'm grateful for being fired."

* * *

"I must tell her that I love her! But alas, she dances with another," Hampterflupinshire dramatically said, wiping away a tear.

"Is this movie even for real? They're at a ball, It's what you do," Bill questioned.

Mabel shrugged. "I dunno how Stan even ever _found _this channel. It's not like him to willingly watch something this cheesy," she said, making Bill snicker. They jumped when they heard snoring come from the other two, both Dipper and Stan fast asleep beside them.

Mabel brought a finger to her lips, sitting up and gently prying the remote out of her uncle's limp fingers. She motioned Bill to join her closer to the television set. He did, and Mabel pressed the mute button on the remote.

"What now?" he whispered.

Shooting Star gestured her head towards the TV set. The duchess was turning her back on the man she was with.

"I don't love you anymore, Lionel," Mabel ad-libbed. "I want to go back to one of my other fifteen boyfriends that has more money than you and doesn't have an ugly butt-chin!"

Bill stifled a giggle, catching on. "I-I know I never even suggested that I love you, but I need you! You're the person that actually gives me any social status and makes people stop staring at my butt-chin!"

The Duchess turned back to her former flame, tearing the bonnet from her head and throwing it to the ground. "And this hat you spent all of your savings on is terrible!" Mabel voiced over. "I distinctly told you to get it in pea green, not barf green. It's not even encrusted in diamonds, and you expect me to wear it in public?"

"But toots, nooooooooo."

"And you should know by now that I'll be back for you, I still have seven movies left in my franchise."

They broke out into the quietest snorts and sniggers they could muster. Bill glimpsed over at Mabel once the commercials had begun, her eyes beginning to brim with tears from her merriment. He should have done this human thing years ago.


	11. Chapter 11

**Added in a lil' somethin'-somethin' for my dear friend. If you're reading this, Mary: you're welcome. Also, I'm slapping you in the face with the Holiday Halibut a week before Halloween because I didn't think the timing of publishing through.**

**I was not ready for Weirdmageddon.**

Dipper waved off the last tour bus of the day. He went back inside to take off the fez he was wearing and gave his brow a wipe. "Well, that should be all till Monday," he announced to the Shack's inhabitants.

"Ya know, kid, you've been doing a real good job lately," Grunkle Stan complemented him.

Dipper's twin sister came down from upstairs, putting her best holiday earrings in. They dangled so low they almost touched her candy cane striped sweater. "Hey, what's got you all dolled up?" Mabel could hear her great-uncle ask. She grabbed her snowman-themed clutch before replying, "I'm going for a night on the town with the girlfriends. We're planning to all get mani-pedis and then go somewhere to eat. All Pacifica's treat."

Dipper smiled. "Well, that's very nice of her."

"I know. And it's been a while since I've seen her, so this is gonna be so fun!"

Bill poked his head around the corner. "Wait, you're gonna be gone?" he asked, his brow creasing ever so slightly.

Mabel skipped over to push his hat down over his eyes. "I'm just gonna go out tonight, you probably won't see me again until tomorrow, though. We're gonna be out kinda late."

Bill moved his hat back in its placed and quickly fixed his eye patch. She got a smile from him. "All right. You go have fun. Tell them I said 'hi'."

"I will!" Mabel shouted back, closing the door behind her. She promptly got herself into Stan's old car and drove herself the half mile into town. She pulled up to the nail salon, which had three other cars parked next to it.

The bell in the shop rang as the winter wind helped Mabel drive open the door. She was greeted by a wave. "Hey, Mabel!"

"Hi, Pacifica! It's good to see you!" she replied, hugging the blonde.

"Oh, I know; it's been forever."

"How's it hangin'?" and "It is good to see you, too" were how Grenda and Candy voiced their greetings.

"Why haven't you all started?" Mabel questioned.

"We're waiting on you, hon'. Now let's get this night rolling!" Pacifica declared.

* * *

"Here are your drinks, ladies, and I'll be right back to take your orders," the waiter said to the group of women.

Pacifica sighed and tilted her head towards Mabel. "All right then, let's play a short game of catch-up. What have you been doing lately? How's everything going?"

Mabel finished her long sip of soda before replying, "Oh, things are pretty good right now. Grunkle Stan doesn't seem to be getting any worse and Dipper's still looking for a good cheap college."

"Does he still want to star in a paranormal T.V. Show?"

"Nah, he gave up on that a few years ago. The Shack as a business isn't doing so well though, but we have a free helper who practically saved us from going under this past summer. And I just so happen to be dating him," she added in a singsong tone.

Pacifica rested he head on the back of her hand, leaning in closer. "Ooo, romance. Do spill. What's he like?"

"He's really sweet and and is up there with my brother on the Smart Scale, and absolutely a_dork_able at times. And rather mysterious now that I think about it, with a deep history and all that."

"Don't forget that he's a total hottie!" Grenda butted in.

Pacifica hummed, amused. "Sounds intriguing. What's his name?"

The sweatered girl flicked the straw around in her glass. "Oh, it's Bill Cipher. I've told you a bit about him."

Pacifica blinked. "Wait, isn't that the demon who tried to destroy everything?"

Mabel gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah, but it turns out it was all just a big misunderstanding. He might have been a little off as a demon, but he's a really cool human... guy." She pulled out her cellphone. "I've been taking his picture every day so he can always remember what it's like being a person. I dunno how long he's gonna be like this, and I kinda don't think he does, either, so I thought it would be a good scrapbook-ortunity ."

A freshly painted red nail clicked against the touchscreen as she turned it on, the other girls crowding around her. "This is him taking out the garbage. This one's us having lunch. And this is him when he was sick. Oh, and here's one from the day he nearly crashed Stan's car into a pole. Silly-Billy."

Pacifica cocked her head. "Uh, Mabel, no offense or anything, but these pictures seem to be rather on the... mundane side."

Mabel continued scrolling. "Well, _doi_! They're supposed to be. No one's life is exciting _all_ the time. Oh! Here's a good one!" She turned the screen to her friends, which was a picture of both Bill and Mabel in costume taken from above. She was squeezing the ex-demon, and he ducked forward to fit in the frame, a bubbly smile on each face. "This one I took at the Halloween party. It's one of my favorites."

Pacifica pouted. "I wish I could've gone, it sounded like so much fun. I was looking forward to seeing Dipper...," she trailed off. She blushed when she realized that she had stopped. "And you, of course. Candy and Grenda told me a bit about it."

"What happened at the party?" Candy inquired. "We did not see you after the beginning."

"Yeah! It was like you disappeared!" Grenda added.

Mabel sighed. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. After Bill got swarmed he, uh... he wasn't feeling too good, so we spent the rest of the night outside."

Pacifica raised an eyebrow. "Did anything, I don't know, _interesting_ happen?"

Mabel blinked. "Uh, he told me more about himself, and uh... Oh! And we danced. That was fun." She smiled. "Yeah. He wanted to dance even though he hates techno party music. He's sweet."

Pacifica stared at Mabel. "Anything _else_?"

Mabel squinted at the blonde before blowing a raspberry. "What? _No_. I know this may sound weird, but we haven't even kissed yet."

The three girls gasped. "My gosh," Candy softly exclaimed.

"How could you possibly keep your lips off such perfect stubble?" Grenda shouted.

"And you call yourself irresistible," Pacifica joked.

The woman at the center of attention laughed. "It's true, though! Even though he can sometimes be a touch clingy, he's rather, oh what's the word... reserved. Every now and then, very rarely, he'll just distance himself for a day or so. He's always so quiet when he does that. I wonder what he thinks about." She paused, zoning out. "Anyway, I don't wanna spook him too much, so I'll let do his own thing in his own time. It's not like there's some big rush or anything."

"And what's with the eye patch?" Pacifica inquired. "Did he get hurt somehow?"

Mabel shrugged. "He won't talk about it. He gets kinda mad when people ask about it. Not super mad, but he will get snappy. My best guess is that since he only had one eye as a demon, he only has one eye as a person and wears the eye patch to feel more normal. Either that, or he just thinks it looks cool. I got nothing else."

The waiter waltzed back, a notepad in his hand. "Ah, my lovely darlings, what might I get you tonight?" he flirted.

Candy handed in her menu. "I would like the seafood platter, please."

"Give me a steak!" Grenda requested.

"I want the sal-, no," Mabel began. "I want the bur-, no. No wait, I want the- oh, forget it, just get me the soup of the day," she sighed, defeated.

"I'll have the Caesar salad," Pacifica finished, gathering up the other menus and giving them to the waiter.

"Ah, all excellent choices! But, I would not expect anything less from such ladies," he complemented, leaving them for the kitchen.

Candy rolled her eyes. "The waiters here are all such big lover-boys."

Grenda grinned. "I know, and I'm loving it!"

Mabel laughed, glancing at the floor. "Yeah, I guess so."

Pacifica's eyebrows lifted. "What's the matter? The Mabel I know and love would be _super_ happy, what with getting all this attention from handsome guys."

Mabel tapped the table. "I dunno. I'm always hanging out with Bill, so nobody comes up to bother me anymore. It feels weird to be hit on now." She shrugged. "I kinda like how it feels weird, in a strange and good way." She looked about the restaurant. "Or maybe it only feels weird because this was the place Gideon had his first date with me."

"Aw, you only have eyes for your B.F.!" Grenda lauded.

"How romantic," Candy dreamily sighed.

Pacifica held a hand on her chest. "That's really cute! Not taking the empty flirting of strangers."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Oh, stop it, guys. It's really not that big a deal." Her eyes widened and her face reddened when _Taking over Midnite_ started emanating from her clutch. She pulled the zipper open, fumbling with her cellphone. "I am _so_ sorry." She looked at the caller ID. "It's the Shack, it might be really important."

"Answer it before it drops," Pacifica told her.

Mabel glanced at the other girls to see them nod before pressing the "answer" button. "H... hello?"

The others saw Mabel sigh with relief. "Everything's okay, it's just Bill."

"Put it on speaker!" Grenda whispered loudly.

Mabel gave her an exasperated stare, pressing the speaker button.

"_Y'ello? Mabel? You still there?_" Bill's voice asked through the phone.

"Yeah, I'm here," Mabel replied.

"_I forgot to ask you something before you left._"

"Yeeesss?"

"_Um... What's your favorite color? Because I'm pretty sure it's not really plaid._"

The women at the table began giggling. Mabel had to shush them. "All right, you got me. If I had to pick, I'd say pink. Why?"

"_Oh, no reason. I just wanted to make sure before I, uh... started something. Thanks._"

"No problemo! I'll see you when I get back." She began to hang up when Bill stopped her.

"_Oh, and Mabel?_"

"Yes?"

"_Don't bring home another pet lobster._"

Mabel giggled. "Can do." She hung up. "Wonder what _that_ was about," she asked aloud.

"Christmas _is_ just around the corner," Candy suggested.

Grenda gasped. "Oh my gosh, you're right! Maybe he's getting you something!" she excitedly suggested.

Pacifica giggled. "So what do you think it could be?"

The brunette shrugged. "I dunno! We can't really afford much, but then again, he gets a lot of tips. Mostly from girls. Really it could be anything!"

"Enough to buy a _ring _maybe?"

Mabel gasped, hitting her friend's shoulder. "_Pacifica!_ Like I told you, he's reserved. I mean, I wouldn't be _complaining_, but I doubt it. At least for now, anyway." She gasped again. "And I know the perfect thing to give Bill for Christmas!"

**I'm not sure if we've officially celebrated this yet or not, but we cracked 50 followers! Everyone, look under your seats! ****_You _****get a cookie! ****_You _****get a cookie! EVERYONE GETS A COOKIE! Thanks to all of you for taking an interest in my story and sticking around for it. Every follow or favorite notification makes my day and every comment makes my week! Y'all are so kind!**

**Well, I have around four chapters left in my belt before I'm through. I would have more, but i realized I skipped a chapter and have been thrown through a loop trying to think of something. If any of you guys want to suggest a scenario for these two cuties between mid-January and the first of February, preferably at the Shack (but I won't be picky), sent me a PM and I'll take it into consideration. **

**Cheers!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I have just recently found a whole bunch of format errors in past chapters, mostly the absence of breaks between scenes. Most of my documents are too old to edit, but I'll keep a very careful eye out for them in the future. I am so sorry.**

**Since I had last updated, I had gotten some of the sweetest reviews and over ten more followers! I want to say a humongous thank you to not only those that have recently reviewed/followed/favorite, but to everyone reading this right now. I know just a handful of you personally, but there is a staggering amount, in my opinion, that have found this story interesting enough to keep reading. I'm not crying; I've got glitter in my eye!**

**Also I think this story is beginning to fall under the "Nearly Kinda Fits Under Canon Still but Not Quite" category. With all the other fanfictions that have been doused in gasoline but not lit on fire by Alex Hirsch just yet. I'm living on a prayer at this point.**

**All right, I'll shut up. Cheers!**

* * *

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, BILL!"

Bill awoke to the breath being knocked out of him, with Shooting Star having him pinned by the chest underneath her knees. It took all the self control and quick thinking he had to keep both his eyes from popping open in surprise.

"What?" he tried to moan, fumbling for his eye-patch on the desk beside him with his left eye pinched shut. "And dearie, I think you've hurt something. Ow."

"At least she waited until eight for you," Dipper yawned from the doorway. "I've been up since before dawn."

Mabel looked back at her brother. "Because you had to help me get everything ready, Mr. Bellyache!" She grinned back down to Cipher below her, the sleeves of her reindeer sweater tickling his cheeks. "I made eggs Benedict casserole for everyone!"

"Like you do every year," Dipper said, smiling.

Bill wheezed as Mabel let herself off of him, and he propped his torso up on his elbows with a chortle. "Sounds delicious. Go on ahead; I'll be there in just a second." They both nodded and left the room, letting the door click shut behind them.

He flipped the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the side. A smile graced his lips. "Happy birthday, Josh," he mumbled as he walked over to his small dresser. He pulled open a drawer and lifted a pair of old sweatpants. He shrugged before slipping them on and tailing the twins to the kitchen, deciding against changing out of his wrinkly sleep shirt.

* * *

The twins had just grabbed their plates and Grunkle Stan had already seated himself at the table. The elder smiled through a mouthful. "Took ya long enough to finally wake up."

"It's not that late! Why is everyone treating it like I woke up at noon?"

"Because," Stan replied, "It's Christmas, anytime after sunrise is late. Don't you know kids at all?"

Dipper flushed. "Grunkle Stan, we're legal adults. We have been for two years now."

Mabel stuck a "Do Not Open Before Xmas" sticker on the end of his nose. "C'mon, aren't you at least still a kid at heart?" Dipper pulled the sticker from his nose with an amused huff.

Stan kicked the chairs away from the table. "What're you waiting on? Grab a seat, grab some grub. Dig in!"

Bill sat down across from Mr. Mystery, Senior, and the mystery twins filled up the other two seats. Mabel shoved the plates across the table to the other two men. Grunkle Stan took a swig of his orange juice before contentedly saying, "Ya know, I've kinda missed mornings like this. The ones where we just sit around together, not having to go off to work or, I don't know, even save the world!" he added with a laugh. "It's nice to have everything calm for once."

Bill reached for his fork and began to pick at his still-steaming food. "Yeah, I'm just enjoying the calm before any storm," he murmured. He hummed in delight as he took his first bite, not noticing a skeptical Dipper eyeing him as he copied his motion. "I haven't noticed anything too outta place since I've been here," Bill continued. "Have you had any more 'adventures' since that summer?"

Dipper sighed. "Nothing too exciting. All the gnomes and such tend to say out of the way and inside the woods. Not unlike how our summer was before you showed up, but even more...," his crestfallen expression deepened, "... boring."

"Makes me wonder if it was Ford who was tracking the anomalies or if the anomalies were tracking him," Stan added.

Mabel wolfed down her serving and swiped her finger along the edge of her plate, wiping up any last drops of sauce. "All right, Christmas can now officially start!" She leaped from the table and grabbed her great-uncle and her sweetheart's hands and began tugging them. "Come on, I got presents for everyone!"

"But, Mabel, I just sat down..." Bill whined as he was dragged from the table along with Stan. Dipper picked up his plate, rolling his eyes at his sister's antics before following the others into the living room. The room itself looked almost the same, but had some fairy lights hanging from the walls and a paltry Christmas tree in the corner. Six small packages lay underneath the branches, and Mabel kneeled down and grabbed the ones she had wrapped. "All righty! One for each of you!" She began to hand them out, then sat on the floor next to Bill.

Stan was the first to open his. "A day planner," he said from his recliner. "Could help motivate me to get around a bit more."

The Mystery Twin unwrapped his next. "New underwear. Mabel, are you trying to tell me something?"

"You're welcome," she replied. She turned to Bill, who was staring at the box he was given. "Well, what are you waiting for? Open it!"

Bill tossed Mabel a glance, almost like he wanted permission. He saw her beam, and he returned it, focusing his attention back onto the present before him. He slowly lifted the lid and peeked inside. He held up the box's contents against his torso. "A sweater? For me?" he asked. Mabel nodded excitedly.

The sweater was a gorgeous golden color, with metallic strings sewn throughout. A brick patterning wrapped itself around the sleeves' cuffs and the sweater's base. He flipped it around to see a sewn-in bowtie pattern and a small red heart decoration over where his heart would be. He breathed a laugh. "Mabel, I'm... I'm speechless. I don't know what to say, thank you." He slipped the sweater over his t-shirt. "Did you make this?"

Mabel grinned. " 'Course I did! And look!" she added, pulling on her own sweater. Hers was the same as Bill's, but was red with her signature shooting star and a yellow heart decal. "They match!" she finished with a giggle. "I was gonna use pink instead of red, but all my pink yarn vanished somehow," she explained. Grunkle Stan chuckled, amused.

Bill's cheeks turned red as he rubbed the nape of his neck. "Yikes, now I feel terrible about my present. I couldn't top this, not in a million years!"

Mabel gasped, putting her hands on her cheeks. "I wanna see! Show me, show me!"

Bill blushed even more. "I only will if you promise not to laugh," he said. He pointed to a green and red package still underneath the tree. "It's that one right there."

Mabel crawled over to the tree and took the present out from under it. She shook the box eagerly. "Any hints as to what it is?"

"Nope. The only hint you're getting is that it's embarrassingly bad. I wouldn't be surprised to see you burn it," was Bill's reply.

She opened the box slowly and hummed dramatic music. She finally swept the lid off with a "Dun-na-_na_-_NA_!" and smiled when she peeped inside. "So _that's_ where my pink yarn went," she smirked, glancing at the blond. The box had a pink hand-knit scarf, which was uneven in many rows and had varying degrees of width throughout it. "You have been stealing it all along, haven't you?"

Bill covered his beet-red face with his hands. "I'm sorry, it's terrible. I wanted to give you something more personal by making it myself, and I wanted to try and knit you something because you love knitting and I... I should have just gotten you scrapbook supplies or something. I'm sorry I wasted your yarn."

The brunette wrapped the scarf around her neck and gave it a squeeze. "But that's exactly what makes it so special."

"So...," Bill started, lifting his face to look at the older Pines twin. "So it's not completely terrible?"

Mabel paused, before wryly laughing. "Well, it's not _completely _terrible." She nudged the ex-demon when she saw his brow crease in disappointment. "But hey, you tried really hard. I'm proud of you." She grinned when she watched his lips press into a thin smile. "And I'm glad to say that I'm the only person on earth to be a proud owner of a scarf as thoughtful as this," she told him, pecking his cheek. She heard the microwave _ding_ from the kitchen. "Oh! Hot chocolate's done!" she said, dashing towards the nearby room.

Bill looked back at Pine Tree, a flinch preparing him for whatever reprimand he might receive. His shoulders relaxed and his expression turned into one of confusion when nothing was hurled, either verbally or physically, his way. "What, nothing? Not even a 'I'm drop-kicking your triangular butt back into Hell'? I thought that one was really funny."

Dipper sighed. "You know what, it's Christmas. I'll let this one slide." Dipper let his fork clink against the plate as he dropped it. "But first thing in the morning, I'm drop-kicking your triangular butt back into Hell," he stated with a smirk.

Mabel returned to the living room, four steaming mugs on an old serving platter. "Hey, Dip-dop," she began, handing the mugs out one by one. "Remember that one Christmas when we were, like, ten and we tried making hot chocolate for Mom and Dad? But we accidentally used buttermilk instead, so it was super gross?"

Dipper laughed. "Yeah! That was... that was disgusting." He paused before proceeding to cautiously sniff his mug. "Uh, you didn't so happen to do that again, did you?"

His sister gave a slow giggle, avoiding eye contact with him. "I almost made this with prune juice, so don't be surprised if it tastes just a _wee_ off."

Dipper set his cup down next to him. "I'm just gonna let this cool off some..."

Bill blew on the milk steam. "So what, is buttermilk not butter-flavored milk? Is it not the greatness that it is named after? Or is the combination of butter and milk and chocolate too great for human minds to conceive? Because if it's not, I am greatly disappointed."

"Make him chug a glass!" Stan cheered. His great-niece shushed him.

She put her hands around Bill's cheeks, facing his head towards Stan. "How dare you suggest that! He is an innocent child that must be protected."

"Mabel, he's a demon," her brother interjected. "Plus, he'd probably like it, considering it can be made with lemon juice."

She glared at him. "He is a precious gift from below and you will treat him as such by not force-feeding him gross things."

Bill licked his lips of the chocolate syrup. "I've never heard that story before. The one about the not-butter milk."

Dipper rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, if you want a Christmas story, you should hear about the time I was seven and I camped out all night behind the couch waiting for Santa." He paused, taking a gulp of his cocoa. "So yeah, that's how I found out to use nets when capturing something instead of a bat and got my dad a trip to the ER because of a blunt-force trauma injury."

"Don't gulp hot chocolate!" Mabel complained. "It's to be savored!"

Stan cockily grinned at his great-nephew. "You think that's a good Christmas story? I've been around longer than both of you combined. Listen up. Okay, so even though my brother and I grew up celebrating Hanukkah with our pop, we had a neighbor that celebrated Christmas, so this can count as a Christmas story. So, we lived more on the outskirts of Glass Shard, and the neighbor kid had a small farm of sorts. Well, while at his house one day, we overheard his parents talking about how they planned to get an old mule to help with the fieldwork and have her double as a pet of sorts. So of course us two, as stupid little brats we were, thought that we'd break in to sneak in a 'test ride' the night the mule showed up, and our reasoning was that everyone else would be asleep 'cause iit was Christmas. Well, we're just climbing onto her back when their dog starts yapping, and next thing ya know, we've both got hoof prints on our foreheads and bans from leaving the house." Grunkle Stan sighed, looking into space. "We had to move out of the neighborhood after that."

Mabel nudged Bill with her shoulder, causing him to nearly spill his drink on his face. "You've been around for a super long time. You must have _tons_ of cool Christmas stories!"

Bill shook his head. "Nope, I haven't ever really done anything special on Christmas. Heck, I even missed the first Christmas, I was in Egypt at the time." He glanced down into his now-empty mug, frowning. "They wouldn't stop summoning me at random for centuries. Thought I was some sort of god. It got really weird for a while, but at least I have monuments shaped like me now." He chuckled a bit, but his voice died back when he noticed the looks he was being given by the two Mr. Pines.

The four sat in silence, the Pines seeming to be reveling in the simplicity of each others company. Bill shifted uncomfortably in his spot. "So, what now?"

Stan glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "What, you expecting some sort of Christmas jig? Just let some kids enjoy their holiday, will ya? We can pop in a movie if you're desperate." He raised his mug. "Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals."

"God bless us, every one!" Mabel exclaimed.


	13. Chapter 13

**The holiday season has finally begun. Yay! Super excited about everything. Would've posted this sooner, but my browser was being an absolute butt and wasn't letting me do anything. Anyway, happy reading!**

* * *

The front door crashed against the wall. "It's okay, everybody!" Mabel shouted, Dipper walking in behind her. "We got more chips to go with the extra dip."

The crowd in the Mystery Shack cheered at the announcement before returning to their dancing. Loud party music had been playing for the past two hours, the dancers wearing silly hats and giant "2020" glasses. Banners that hung from the ceiling declared "Happy New Year!" to everyone below.

Bill Cipher jogged up to the two Pines. "Hey, Mabel. Your friends came while you were out and they've been asking for you."

Mabel beamed, scanning the crowd. "Really? Okay, thanks," she said, pushing past him and the waves of people, craning her neck over the crowd. She stumbled across a group of three conversing among themselves, who all stopped in their tracks when they noticed the brunette. She was greeted with a "Hey, Mabel!"

"Hi, guys!" she greeted Candy, Grenda, and Pacifica. Mabel squeezed herself into their circle. "So what's shaking?"

Pacifica gestured at Grenda. "Well, we were just talking about-"

"_I got a serious boyfriend!_" the larger woman shouted excitedly.

"Mabel gasped. "No. Flipping. _Way_. Tell me absolutely everything."

Grenda bounced. "I've been trying to keep it secret. We've been video chatting for the past nine months now. He lives up in Seattle, but he said he could come drive down for Valentine's Day." She swooned. "He is the sweetest thing I've ever met; so romantic! And he told me just last week that his father is a wealthy C.E.O."

Candy paused, adjusting her glasses. "Didn't Bill tell you to keep an eye out for a well-off gentleman from Washington state?"

Grenda gasped. "Oh my gosh, girls. Does this mean that he's _the_ one?" She squealed in excitement.

"Speaking of Cipher," Pacifica began. "How goes it with you?" she asked, directing the group's attention on Mabel. "Surely one of you has made a move by now."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "It hasn't even been a month, didn't your parents teach you about patience?"

This got a laugh from the blonde. "Well, when you're as rich as I was growing up, most things are handed to you at the lift of a finger." She looked at Mabel intently. "All I want is for you to be happy, dear."

Mabel huffed. "Well who said dating needed a physical side? If the most he wants is hand-holding, then by Golly, I'll be the best hand-holder he could ever ask for."

Pacifica stepped back. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. As kids, that's all you talked about. Hand-holding, snuggling, kissing, that seemed to be all you ever wanted."

Mabel smiled, looking off into a corner. "Yeah, young me didn't know how much goes into a good relationship. Me now knows that if someone wants boundaries, I should let him have them. It's the good girlfriend thing to do."

The group was silent for a moment before Pacifica dug through her purse. "At least put some chap stick on, your lips look ready to shatter," she said as she pulled out a tube.

Mabel took it, quickly applying it before returning it. "Thanks, I lost mine a few days ago and I keep forgetting to buy more."

Bill came up from behind the group. He tapped Mabel on the shoulder, spinning her around. "Hey, Shooting Star." His eyes flitted to her lips and he unconsciously bit his own before continuing, "A dance-off about to begin and I need you there to destroy the competition."

She bubbled, dashing off with him in the direction of the dance floor. "I'm so in!"

Pacifica huddled the other two women closer to her. "Oh my gosh, did you see that?"

"See what?" Grenda asked.

Pacifica shushed her, lowering her voice. "Did you not see how he looked at those lips thinking how kissable they could be? It was only for a split second, but I _swear _I saw it."

Candy shrugged. "So? How is this relevant?"

"It's relevant to the whole conversation we just had! Bill hasn't kissed her yet not because he's abstaining from anything; he's just _scared_."

"I would not blame him," Candy added. "What if he had been abandoned before? What if he is scared of any consequences? Mabel said that he might only be a human for a short time. He might think he would get too attached if he does anyt'ing like kiss her."

Pacifica's brow furrowed. "You could be right..." She looked up at the other two. "That doesn't mean that he – that _they_ – shouldn't get to enjoy themselves even _once_. Come on, girls." Her mouth curled into a grin. "I have an idea."

* * *

Mabel sat down in a chair along the wall, sweat beginning to trickle down her temple. "I still can't believe the dance-off's only half over. What time d'they say they'd continue it?" she asked between pants.

Bill looked up at the cuckoo clock above their heads. "A little over half an hour from now, after midnight. He handed her a cup of punch, fanning her as he did so. "Now, the competition might be tough, but I know ya got it in ya to take home the gold. Now _who's gonna win_?" he shouted.

"_I am!_" she replied.

"_Who can take the competition out?_"

"_I can!_"

"_And who can shake her tail feather better than all these Plebeians?_"

"_I can!_"

Bill patted her shoulder. "Then you are ready to finish what you started." He looked back up at the clock. "Twenty-eight minutes from now."

Grenda sauntered up to them, concealing a smile. "You know, Mabel, that sweater's probably what's making you so steamy. You should take it off."

Mabel shook her head. "No way! Then I wouldn't be able to do this," she said, pressing a button. The disco ball on her sweater lit up, flashing its lights in a rhythmic manner. "Besides," she continued. "I'm only wearing an old tank top under this." She eyed her friend suspiciously. "Why are you suggesting that?"

Grenda giggled. "Oh, no reason," she said, retreating into the crowd.

"Well, that was odd," Bill commented. "Even for her." His eyes followed the larger woman as she slipped to the sound stage.

Grenda balled her fists as she got up behind the speakers where the other two girls stood. "Dang it!" she grumbled. "I thought I was on to something there."

Candy faced the computer and began typing. "Don't worry. My plan will most certainly work." She made one final click on the keyboard before grabbing the microphone.

Bill and Mabel's heads perked when they heard a voice over the intercom.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," the accented voice began, "It is time to take a break from this high-energy dancing to grab your love and sway to this sweet beat."

Bill and Mabel looked at each other with raised eyebrows. "I didn't know any slow dances were supposed to play this early," Bill wondered aloud.

Mabel squinted skeptically towards the sound stage where her friends were. "They're _not_."

The crowd gazed about the room in confusion when jazzy music began to blare from the speakers.

_"__Sha-la-la-la-la-la my oh my_

_Look like the boy too shy_

_Ain't gonna Kiss the Girl"_

Mabel covered her beet-red face as Bill glanced at her. "Mabel? What is going on?" He looked back at the stage to see Candy clacking away, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, Pacifica, I'll put the real song on. I thought it was hilarious."

Slow music began to fill the room. Most of the people started to grab a partner and began to sway their bodies in time with the plodding melody. Bill reached a hand down. "You wanna?"

She blew a raspberry. "Aw heck, man. I ain't movin' from this spot for the next twenty minutes unless my life depends on it."

Bill shrugged, pulling up one of the chairs. "All right, then," he sighed as he sat down next to Mabel.

Grenda leaned over towards the other two women. "Hey, anything yet?"

Pacifica scanned for the couple in question. She shook her head when she found them sitting near the wall, conversing the night away. "Nope, not yet. Plan 'C'?" She smiled as they nodded in agreement.

Mabel perked up as she saw her friend approach. "Hi! You havin' fun? Hey, do you know what was up with Grenda earlier?"

Pacifica rolled her eyes, concealing a small grin. "Oh, you know how she gets at parties." She took a sip from the bottle of Pitt Cola in her hand. "We were actually thinking of playing a little game of Truth or Dare. You two wanna join?"

Mabel leered at her friend before looking off in a corner. "Nah, that's just a silly game played by middle-schoolers. I think we'll pass."

Bill stood up and faced the brunette. "Aren't silly games your forte? C'mon, one game couldn't hurt, right?" he told her, reaching a hand down to where she sat.

She pressed her lips skeptically. Mabel glared at her friend through the corner of her eye, who smiled coyly in return. "Okay," she finally replied. "One round, but that's it."

He grinned as he pulled her up from the chair. "We gotta do _something_ new for New Year's, right?"

Pacifica clapped her hands together. "Great! I got some others who want to play. We're just waiting on you two!" She grasped their arms and led them to a less populated corner of the gift shop. She greeted Candy and Grenda on the floor along with three other people. They all adjusted the circle to welcome three more. "So," Pacifica started. "Now that we're all here, who wants to start?"

A teenager in a gray beanie raised his hand. "I guess I'll go."

"Truth or Dare?"

He thought for a moment. "Truth."

The blonde grinned. "Spill about your most embarrassing moment."

His friends all "oooh"ed in excitement. He sighed. "Fine. I was in kindergarten and I wasn't feeling good. My mom thought I was bluffing and sent me to school anyway. Then at lunch I got sick all over the table."

The group collectively cringed. "No, it gets worse," the boy continued. "The next day, the teachers had started the day with a 'Buck set such a great example for us yesterday-' and I started puffing my chest out until I heard them say 'You should never do what he did, always go to a toilet or trash can if you feel sick'. They wouldn't listen to me when I told them both were half the gym court away. I was so embarrassed."

Bill held his stomach. "Ech."

Mabel nudged him with her shoulder. "You're fine, Silly-Billy."

Buck turned to Candy. "You. Truth or Dare?"

Candy adjusted her glasses. "I choose... dare!"

"I dare you to kiss the bottom of your shoe."

Candy frowned at him before glancing at her foot. She eyed Buck once again, staring at him as she put her fingers to her lips, then touched them to the sole of her sneaker.

"Well played," Mabel commented while Buck harrumphed, crossing his arms.

Candy turned to the brunette. "Mabel, Truth or Dare?"

She tapped her chin. "Hmmm. How about a truth?" She could hear Pacifica grunt beside her as Candy thought of a question.

"If you could have one superpower, what would it be?"

Mabel bolted up, slamming her hands onto the floor. "Shape-shifting! Definitely shape-shifting! Obviously. Like, why would you want anything else? It's like having almost every superpower at once. I could have _kittens for fists_ _again!_" She turned to Pacifica, a sly look on her face. "Truth... or Dare?"

Pacifica flicked some strands of hair over her shoulder nonchalantly. "I'll spill. Truth."

"Who was your first kiss?"

The group whispered to themselves excitedly. She hummed to herself in thought. "I'd have to say, it was at one of my parent's parties, when I was about fifteen. He was some Noble or other; one minute we're chatting and the next he's planted his face on mine. I had him escorted out," she added with a giggle. She leaned forward to see Bill. "Bill, 'T' or 'D'?"

He smirked. "Dare me."

She returned the expression. "While we're on the topic, I dare you to kiss Ma – "

"Hey, everyone!" Dipper announced from the door to the living room. "The ball's about to drop!"

This led to a mass scrambling of the party-goers, including both Bill and Mabel, towards the living room television. Pacifica huffed when she noticed they had left.

The tan and cream couple watched in excitement as the reporter burnt the minute or so remaining talking to the people in Times Square. Mabel turned to Bill. "That game of Truth or Dare was fun, I guess."

Bill replied with his eyes glued to the screen. "I thought it was pretty fun. What was wrong about it, 'sides the fact it was pretty short?"

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Haven't you realized what everyone's been trying to do all night?"

He blinked. "No, what?"

"My friends all think that we should have kissed by now, and they've been trying to get us to all night," she said, rolling her eyes.

Bill looked up at her, a dumbstruck look on his face. "... They have?"

Mabel raised an eyebrow. "How could you miss it?"

He waved a hand in the air. "Sorry! I've never been good at reading people, just minds."

"Aren't those two thing the same, though?"

"Shut up," Bill blithely said, nudging her side. She snickered in reply.

Mabel looked back at the TV screen, then at the floor. "So you're not mad at them?"

Bill scoffed. "No. Why would I be?"

"Well, it's just, you never really made any attempt for anything like, _that_, and over time I kind of assumed that... And I felt that they were forcing things, and – "

He touched her hand. "Hey, it's all right." He gave Mabel a sweet smile as her face flushed red.

The crowded room had already packed everyone together like sardines, but Bill could feel like his head was gravitating closer to hers. Mabel's eyes had slipped shut, and just as his did the same, just as their lips seemed to touch, Bill heard a hissing in his ear.

_**Extinguish her or I will take you. Time is ticking.**_

Bill yanked his head back, his breaths heavy as he threw his eyes around his room in a panic. "Bill?" he could barely hear her ask. Oh, the ringing. "I'm, I'm fine. It's just... I'd rather save our first kiss for something a little more... romantic than a stupid party, wouldn't you?" he said with an uneasy laugh. Mabel gave him a worried frown before the crowd's ecstatic countdown.

"... Five! Four! Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

* * *

**Wow, stuff is finally getting real, right? Bill is still hiding something from Mabel; will he tell her, or will he try to deal with it by himself?...**


	14. Chapter 14

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

_Tick, tock._

_Tick, tock._

_**Tick, tock.**_

_**Tick, tock.**_

_**TICK.**_

_**TOCK.**_

_**TICK.**_

A scream echoed against the wooden walls of the old room, loud gulps for air following suit. Bill sat in the couch bed, his eyes darting about the room to affirm his location. The morning's silence held him lovingly after the hissed whispers, and the chilled January air told him the agonizing heat he had felt just a moment before had left him upon entering the waking world. He sent his clammy, trembling hand through his hair. A final puff and the closing of his eyes assisted in wrangling himself together again.

He twisted himself from his seated position to pick up the clock he had on his nightstand. He sighed when he read it. "No hope for me to catch up on any beauty rest," he muttered, wiping the grit from his eyes.

He brought himself up to a kneel and peaked through the window above where he slept. It wasn't cold enough for snow last night and had instead rained, leaving the bare trees and dead ground visibly sodden and dreary. Bill shivered.

As per usual with every Monday since the day he arrived, Bill dragged himself out of bed rather early to prepare the Mystery Shack for that week's visitors. For nearly the past month, though, he had been rising almost half an hour later than he would have preferred, with none of the bonuses that typically come with sleeping in. He swung his legs off the side and gave his back a stretch. Halfheartedly covering a yawn with a fist, he dragged himself to the attached bathroom. He splashed his face with cold water from the tap to help jostle him awake, blotting off any extra with a towel.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. He could feel the blackened eye staring at him. He stared back. The red center scanned his face over, at his hair, his scruff, even to the gray orb next to it, before finally falling upon itself once more. Bill's eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it. The back of a hand reached up wipe it clean, but it remained the same ebony and crimson colors. Bill's face softened, defeated.

He quickly finished getting ready for the work day ahead, minus a few key details. He stepped towards the table he kept near his bedside and picked up the two pieces of silk lying on it. He faced the large mirror on the wall to tie his bowtie, all while averting eye contact with himself. The eye patch he placed over his left eye was tied with the same rebellious tug he had first tied it with. He headed towards the door, slipping his shoes on and grabbing his top hat from the horns of his stuffed jackalope.

* * *

Bill tapped a pencil to his chin, periodically scribbling something onto the clipboard he was holding. He busied himself by counting the bobbles on one of the shelves in the gift shop in the few minutes he had before the Shack officially opened. He was so engrossed in his work that the apocalypse would have happened again before he would notice the sound of footsteps behind him.

Mabel had walked up behind him. She giggled at the sight of Bill chewing on a corner of his mouth as he counted snow globes, a stolid expression fixed on his face. She giggled even harder when he yelped at her surprise hug. "Good morning, starshine!" she greeted. "The sun says 'hello'!"

He craned his neck behind him and grinned at the sight of the young woman beaming up at him. "And to you as well, Shooting Star," he replied. He turned to face her when she finally let go.

She eyed the tidy handwriting on the page he was holding. "What'cha got there?"

He nodded his head towards the shelves. "Just doing a boring inventory check. Nothing too spectacular." His eyebrow lifted. "Ready to tackle another week?"

Mabel nodded, saying "Yep!" Her face soon scrunched as she squinted at Bill. She couldn't help but see the circles underneath the eye she could see or notice the fact that his face was becoming more glazed over as time went on. "But I'm starting to wonder if you are. Not to make you feel bad, but you look like you haven't slept a wink in a while." She nudged him, saying, "Do you want some of my signature 'Mabel Juice'? I'll leave out the plastic dinosaurs this time."

Bill feigned a smile, turning back to the shelves. "Don't worry about me. I'll be okay, I promise."

"So you were able to get some sleep last night?"

"... No. Nothing restful."

"Is it because of nightmares? Sometimes I can hear you scream from my room."

"Ironic, ain't it?" Bill curtly commented, resuming his inventory check. He heard Mabel's feet shuffle behind him towards the cashier's counter.

"Hey, Mr. Sleepyhead! Maybe you're so tired because you've been standing in one spot doing nothing for who knows how long."

"But – "

"I have just the thing to cheer _and _wake you up at the same time!" She clicked on the radio and tuned it to her favorite station, dancing to the pop music blasting from the speakers. She tugged on his arm. "C'mon! Mandatory dance break!"

Cipher glanced back at her and watched her laugh and move about the room. A mischievous glint was in his eye. He laid the clipboard and pencil down on the counter before making his way towards the radio. "No, no. This won't work. Too electronic for my taste," he said, shaking his head. He fiddled with the knob until the static gave way to Roaring Twenties era swing music. "Now that's more like it. Nothing like the sound of real instruments."

Mabel cupped a hand at him. "Okay, Picky Peter, now get over here!"

Bill walked over to her calmly. "I'm coming, but you have to promise me one thing." He took Mabel's hand is his and rested his other hand behind her shoulder. "We dance my way."

Her half-lidded eyes smirked at him. "But I thought you said you had never danced before."

A small chuckle escaped his lips. "You got me there, dearie. But you'd be surprised how much you can pick up when you're stuck people-watching for eternity." He grinned. "You showed me how to dance on the fly. Now let me show you where a little choreography can take you."

Mabel felt his body straighten. "So, will you be taking me waltzing?"

Bill shook his head. "Oh, please. Everyone and their mother knows the waltz. Just follow my feet; these foxes are trotting."

He walked Mabel back, long strides from the both of them letting them float across the room. He spun the two around and stepped them to the side, then took them back across. Their mild height difference didn't seem to bother either of them as they continued to sway to the jazzy rhythm.

"Looks like you're getting lighter on your toes, there," Mabel remarked, noting how sure the blond's footsteps seemed to be.

"Hey, now," he said, twirling them both. "Youngsters take longer to learn how to sit up than I took to learn to walk a straight line. Besides," he continued, slightly tipping her backwards, "You would trip on your own feet, too, if the only walking you ever did was in someone else's body."

The song played on, and the two figures continued in their circular movements, tight spins dotting their performance. The brunette began to flow with the motions more naturally and moved with her partner easily. "Do you," she began quietly, squeezing the hand she held. "Do you wanna talk about them? The nightmares." She ducked her head. "You don't have to, it's just that sometimes telling them to someone helps me. It might work for you, too."

Bill held his breath, his forehead wrinkling. He watched their feet move to the background tune. "Really, I-I'd rather not. It's not you, it's just that they're... a _lot _closer to reality than your run-of the-mill dreams. That's part of what makes them so bad."

"I'm sorry," she sympathetically offered. "I wish I could help somehow." She leant her head on his shoulder.

His lips curled slightly upwards, his expression soft. "It's okay. These aren't your nightmares; let me deal with them."

The band's piece came to its climax, and Mabel looked up to see Bill listening intently, his steps taking a sudden stop. The ex-demon dramatically swung the woman around one final time before dipping her torso down with a flourish. Both mildly huffed to catch their breath. Shooting Star grinned, looking up at Cipher. He returned the smile.

"All right, gang, our first car just rolled in and – _what is going on?_"

Bill nearly dropped the girl in his arms at the sound of Dipper's shocked voice from the "Employees Only" doorway. He pulled themselves up from the dip, keeping his hands where they were for their dance. "What?" He glowered when his employer remained slackjawed. "Take a picture. It'll last longer."

"Actually, Dipper, could you take one for me?" Mabel interjected. "This moment needs documentation!"

* * *

**Hey! 75 FOLLOWERS? Thank you all so so so SO much!**

**Merry Christmas to all reading! Here's a little Christmas present from me to all of you. Here's an announcement: I have two brand new stories! One is a short Pokemon Christmas-themed story that I've had lying around for... is it three years now? Sheesh. Well, I finally finished it and it's up to read.**

**And the big one is that I'll be starting a Gravity Falls/Bill and Mabel drabble series, and I will most definitely be taking any requests you happen to have! *party cannons* I'll be posting some of my pre-written stuff first. Don't worry, though. This story will be my main priority**

**Cheers, and Merry Christmas plus happy New Year's to you and yours.**


	15. Chapter 15

**So I recently became Undertale trash and have started dedicating nearly all of my spare time into making both a lyric comic and a costume centered around this wonderful experience of a game. Which means that I've forgotten to really keep up with my writing. Oops.**

**This is the last pre-written chapter I've got stored away, so there might be some big lulls in the future, mostly because my writing process takes ****_forever_**** and I want to leave time to walk away for a week or so and come back to see if anything needs to be changed. The next chapter is, for the most part, almost done; it just needs to be less stupid. Because important things happen.**

**So have some happy fun winter stuff!**

* * *

Mist fogged the glass of the triangle-shaped glass as a face was pressed against it. Flurries of snow swirled through the mid-January air, beginning to coat the frozen ground in white. Mabel Pines smiled as she drew a heart in the foggy window before dashing towards the stairs. She had a skip to her step as she tossed her arms through her bright pink coat sleeves, the static from her sweater underneath shocking her brother, who let out a yelp as she shook his arm.

"Hurry up, would ya?" she impatiently asked, zipping her coat closed. "It's not every night they have Gravity Falls lake open to skate on! I wanna get there before it gets too crowded and they have to close it!" The heels of her wool-lined boots clacked noisily against the stairs, her brother stumbling behind her. "And besides," she continued, pulling a fuzzy yellow sweater from under her coat, "there's a two-for-one Valentine's Day discount, and Bill still needs to experience ice-skating!"

"What's about me?" Bill was only just able to get out his thought before getting his face smothered with the lush material. He began to thrash about when Mabel started to tug it over his head. "Mabel! I can hardly breathe!"

"If you're pretty much going on a date with this guy, why are you dragging me along? I don't want to spend my entire evening being a, a third wheel when I could be here doing something better," Dipper said with a curled nose.

"Oh, it won't be like that," his sister scolded him, giving a final tug to the sweater and tossing her arms around a crimson-faced Bill's neck. "Besides, you're only a third wheel if you make yourself one. But, if you insist, you could be our... _chaperon_," Mabel finished with a French accent. She won a smile out of Dipper.

His face contorted. "What? No. That'd be weird. I mean, you... don't need to tell me anything, do you?"

"Oh, shut up," Mabel chortled as she let her full weight hang off the side of Bill's neck, causing the two to knock into the Pines boy. Bill's face noticeably reddened.

All three left the warmth of the house to face the flurries of the twilight cold. Mabel dashed ahead and leaped into the driver's seat of El Diablo. Bill leaned forward to open the passenger's side, but the two men cocked their heads when the handle jiggled but the door stayed tightly shut. "Uh-uh!" Mabel said through the glass. "You two have been getting so much better at playing nice, but I'm still getting the vibe that you just barely tolerate each other for my sake. Now let's get some brotherly love started with a little car ride, shall we?"

Dipper and Bill looked at each other. Even though Pine Tree had known his sister for much longer than the ex-demon, they had both come to expect antics like this from her. Mabel had an extensive history of having everyone she knew be friends with each other, so this kind of thing was bound to happen eventually. Bill sucked in a breath, opening the backseat door and seating himself on the farthest side. Dipper followed and slammed the door shut behind him while Bill strapped his seatbelt on.

Mabel grinned at the two from the rear view mirror. "Great! Now let's shake a leg! Start with an _ice-breaker_," she paused to giggle at her own joke, "and talk about something like the history of... rom-coms," she suggested, driving down the driveway.

Bill pursed his lips. "I can tackle the history if you wanna talk about the movies?" Bill let a laugh escape his lips. "I'm sure Mabel's put you through enough of those over the years." He noticed Dipper shudder next to him.

"Aw, jeez. And she hasn't put you through that yet?"

"Nah. We've never had that much time to ourselves." Bill rolled his eye that was uncovered. "Besides, I don't think I'm missing anything big." He let his eye flit towards the rear view mirror, where he noticed Mabel eyeing him, disgruntled. Bill quickly turned his attention back to Dipper with a plastered smile. "But, did you know the first romantic comedy that was recognized as such was actually Romeo and Juliet? The ending was so badly taken by all of Shakespeare's fans that he had to change the ending to one where everyone died." Bill looked up one last time to see Mabel smile.

"I'm calling baloney on that," Dipper replied. "I know you've been around for a while, but I have to tell you straight: that did not happen."

The two passed the few minutes in the car with their friendly debate, but were forced to end it as the car pulled next to the lake, where a line of cars stretched down. Mabel hopped out and flung the backseat door open. "Shake a leg, guys! We've been here a total of five seconds, we should be on the ice by now!"

The three walked towards the bait shop, which had been refitted as an ice skate rental. McGucket Jr greeted them with a pair of skates. The men were able to tell the fisherman their shoe sizes before Mabel threw a wad of cash on the counter and snatched their skates, dragging the other two back outside.

"Mabel, just slow down, okay? Please?" Dipper asked, less than amused as he sat down on a nearby bench and began to take off a shoe.

She sat down next to him. "You'll have enough time to go as slowly as you want when we get out on the lake." Both of her shoes came off in one tug and she swiftly began slipping the skates on.

Bill leaned an arm on the back of the bench, clumsily trying to untie a shoelace. "Uh, hey. Do you think this is, I dunno, safe?"

The young woman glanced at her date and began laughing. "Did I miss Freaky Friday or something? Since when are _you_ so worried about stuff like that?"

Bill blushed a touch. "Who says I can't start now? I mean, colds are horrible, and getting a hand crushed is impossible to live with; I could only imagine what getting pneumonia or breaking an arm, leg, or even coccyx would be like."

Mabel paused her shoe-tying to squint at him. "Break a what?"

"It means tailbone, Mabel," Dipper told her. "Look, nothing bad is going to happen to you. I'm sure Mabel can give you good enough lessons. I mean, she taught me."

"And have you broken anything since?"

Mabel gasped. "You dare have the audacity to question my training?"

He looked away. "N-no, that's not what I meant, I – "

Mabel sprung up, both of her ice skates firmly tied. "Doesn't matter, still love you, let's go!"

Bill had just finished with his left skate when he looked up. He took in a breath to ask her to repeat that last part but stopped himself when he saw her already at the lake's edge. "_Wait!_" he called out as he saw her begin to skate off farther into the lake, hobbling and hopping after her as he tried to tie his last skate.

She turned around, briefly helping Dipper onto the ice. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna abandon you. Get up here. You're about to get the best 'how-not-to-crash' crash course of your life."

Bill took her outstretched hand in his own, gingerly putting one foot, followed by the other, onto the frozen lake. His feet nearly slipped out from under him, but Mabel helped pull him up. She grabbed for his free hand and slowly started skating backwards. He let himself be dragged, giving a push of his own when he had built enough confidence.

They had continued this for a few minutes before Mabel let go

of one of his hands, moving herself next to him. Bill had gotten better at staying balanced, and Mabel matched his pace as they moseyed around the lake.

"You know," Mabel began, "I had mentioned this to some of my girlfriends, but if I went back in time to show you to twelve-year-old me, she wouldn't believe it was you."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Whad'ya mean, Shooting Star?"

"I had been thinking about when I had said you did a 180 since _then_, and I'm beginning to think that was an understatement. I think back to what Bill the demon did: he broke into my uncle's mind, paraded my brother as a meat puppet, and wrought, basically, _hell_ on Gravity Falls."

She caught his face dropping as she listed the events of that summer, his eyes cast away from hers. "B-but," she hurriedly continued, "I look at you now and I see Bill the human, and to put things bluntly, you seem normal. You work hard around the Shack, and sure you're still kinda snarky at times, but you tend to be rather sweet, I think. Heck, you're even getting on better terms with Dipper, and he doesn't forgive easy.

"I just have to ask, what happened? I mean, does it have to do with becoming human or is it something else?"

Bill nodded. "I'm thinking that's what it is. I was always so preoccupied with keeping Lucy off my tail, and being a demon in itself would make anyone crazy." The fuzzy screens returned to his mind's foreground. "Especially if you had seen what I have."

Dipper passed in front of them backwards, saluting a hello, before tripping and falling flat on his back. This had Bill burst out in a cackling fit. Mabel shook her head. "You still hadn't changed completely, though."

Dipper sat on the ice, blowing brunet strands of hair out of his eyes while glaring at the source of the mocking. "So? How's it treating you so far?"

The blond bounced his head. "Eh, I don't wanna jinx myself just yet, but I haven't died yet, so that's a plus."

He noticed Bill's grip on his sister's hand. "Maybe instead of standing there like a jerk, you could try helping me up. Or skate over here on your own like a grown man," he finished, smirking.

His grin widened farther at the sight of the ex-demon pursing his lips as his brow furrowed and his nostrils flared like an angry bull's. "I – I, well you – how _dare_ you, first off," Bill huffed. "You've done enough teasing. And I am _plenty_ capable of doing something as simple as, as walking with blades tied to the bottom of my feet! It's. A. Breeze."

Mabel attempted to intervene, beginning "Bill, come on don't be – " but he stopped her by tossing her palm from his own, moving at first with a crawl, but bit by bit he picked up a pace he could be proud of. He glanced over his shoulder, first at Mabel, who he gave a child-like smile to, and then to Dipper, exchanging his smile for a snarky grin.

"See?" he stated, folding his arms behind his back, gliding in circles around the two and finally making his way to the edge of the lake.

He heard Dipper's voice behind him and his skates scraping as he stood. "Bill, stop!"

A gray eye rolled in its place. "I haven't completely proved you wrong yet." He stopped next to the cliff, the roar on the falls almost overpowering his voice. "Easy-peasy, lemon squee– "

Bill heard a piercing _crack_, and before he could even gasp for a breath, his stomach lurched with the sensation of falling.

The Mystery Twins had been left in the middle of the lake, frozen in horror when they witnessed the ice beneath Bill collapse. His torso had managed to land with a heavy crash next to the mouth of the ice. Bill's head had gotten jostled when he landed, but he soon found his hands scraping at the ice and his legs rapidly being swallowed by the lake. The cold was replaced with a searing, burning sensation, and a moment of terror washed over him.

Mabel was the first to scream, catching the attention of the other visitors out that night. Her brother did not hesitate to grab her arm and make them both fly like bats out of Hell to the scene. When nearly there, however, he stopped them both short just in time to avoid placing a foot onto the spiderweb splits below. His mind was racking itself for a way to bridge the ten-foot gap they had left to close when he looked up to see Bill's figure dipping farther into the water.

"So," the blond began, forcing a shaky smile, "this might not be the best time to bring it up, but I wanna mention that I can't really feel my legs, and pretty soon the rest of me will be in the same boat, so it'd be stellar if you could think of something and fast." He hissed as he slipped and the frigid water met the base of his shoulders. "No pressure."

Dipper's brow furrowed as he searched the ground. He dropped to his knees, laying himself down prone on the ice. Mabel made the attempt to stay attached to his arm, begging him not to do anything stupid, but he shook her off. "Get down. Grab my ankles and whatever happens, _don't let go_."

She complied, and soon they had formed the most rudimentary of human chains. Dipper slowly inched his way towards the ex-demon. Bill's arms had caught on the edge of the ice, and all three were thankful he wasn't slipping farther.

"Grab on!" Dipper commanded, stretching an arm out to its limit.

Bill reached his own arm out, and their fingers just brushed each other's. He unconsciously tried to lift himself up out of the water to make the connection, pulling himself onto the cracks.

As their hands clasped together, the ice further gave out on Bill and he plunged once more into the void of the lake. Dipper kept his hold firm, and with all of his might he heaved a soaked Bill up next to him. "_Pull us up now!_" Dipper yelled, and Mabel flung her weight backwards. She dragged them both to safety.

Bill sputtered and coughed up the mouthful of lake water he had swallowed. He followed that with a violent shudder. "Wow," he chattered. "I used to take my martinis on ice. N-not sure if I like it for me s-so much."

"I can't believe you!" Mabel cried, hitting his chest. She pulled both her coat and sweater off and ripped the wet clothes off his back. "Why'd you have to have a moment of relapse? I thought you and Dipper were doing so well, and here you go acting like a little kid with a stupid grudge," she nearly spat at him, yanking her sweater over his head and zipping her coat over his shivering figure.

Bill was lifted to a stand. "I kn-know, and I'm sorry. S-something just made me feel like Pine T-Tree would begin acting like h-he did towards me when I first c-came to stay with you all." The two skated towards the warmth of the cabin, closely tailed by Dipper. "Sounds s-stupid when I say it out loud."

"Welcome to humanity."

Her brother passed them both, saying, "Maybe this isn't the best time to tell you how to take a joke."

"Hey," Bill called out to him. Dipper turned around, continuing to skate backwards. "Th-thanks," Bill chattered. "For what you did back there. I-I, uh, wanna s-say that my goose would be cooked if it weren't f-for you."

Dipper tried to shrug casually. "Oh, um, no problem. Did it more for Mabel, for the record."

"Where'd you learn how to do th-that?"

"Mr. Poolcheck make me watch these really old tapes about how to tackle emergency situations involving water. I'm surprised they stuck with me for this long."

The shivering man looked down sheepishly. "Call me a b-bit old-fashioned, but I owe y-ya big."

Mabel rolled her eyes, a smile on her face and her fingers weaving themselves together with her date's once more.

Bill released a pent-up sigh of relief when his feet touched solid ground again.

* * *

**I knew normal winter stuff would be too boring! Ahahahaha!**

**Remind me to never try to write suspense ever again. All in favor say 'aye'.**

**Cheers!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Wow. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Gravity Falls is... over. This sucks. But it doesn't have to suck as much if the fandom doesn't die. Someone needs to read my trash. And I am finishing this dang story unless I die somehow before then. The show was wrapped up beautifully and I couldn't ask for anything more (also I'm still mostly canon so ****_yesss_****).**

* * *

"All right, next on the recipe is, uh, the pecans!"

"Pe-cans, huh? Let's see, we've got almonds, coconut... Nuts, I'm not seeing any pecans, Shooting Star."

"Did you check the back?"

"No, I – oh, here they are. Next?"

"Two cups of flour."

"This it?"

"No, that's the sugar. We need flour for this."

"What about this bag? Seems... kinda heavy."

"Careful with it, then; don't go falling now."

"Okay ready _catch – _"

"_Ack!_"

With a **thump** and a _poof_, the sack of flour traveled the short way to the girl waiting below. However, she was rather unprepared for the unorthodox delivery, as it slipped right through her arms and exploded on the ground, baptizing them both in white flour.

"Bill!" Mabel huffed, but she believed he didn't hear over his burst of laughter. Her mouth twitched at his hysterics, but she had to admit the sight of two people covered in baking ingredients would be funny to almost anyone. She cracked a smile.

"Oh! Oh, toots!" Bill gasped between breaths. "Mabel, I'm so sorry-_hee-hee!_" His cackling continued even through his apology attempt.

"Ah, whatever. It's stuff like this that makes cooking fun. But I think that was last bag of flour we had, wasn't it?"

Bill sighed, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "That was the only one I saw." He chuckled once more. "Again, I'm sorry. I-I'll see if I can salvage any of it."

"All righty." She shook her body, a cloud of dust appearing around her. "But I need to wash this off. I feel gross."

Bill hopped off the step-stool. "You want me to continue with the cookies, or do you want me to wait?"

"I would love, love, _love _it if you would wait for me. I'll only be about fifteen minutes; cross my heart," she told him, jogging towards the stairs.

A diminutive, enamored smile began to grace his lips as he watched her briskly climb the stairs. His gaze lingered even after she had disappeared to the floor above, and even after someone had approached him from behind.

"Bill? _Bill!_"

He shrieked, spinning around to see Dipper. The relaxed late-February Sunday had him dressed in his old vest and classic blue baseball cap. "Pine Tree," Bill panted. "You should know that it's rude to sneak up on people."

"Seriously?" Dipper scoffed. "I've been standing here for the past minute." He smirked, looking the white-dusted man over. "Cooking going well for the two of you? And where'd Mabel go?" he asked, scanning the kitchen.

"She'll be back soon," Bill explained. "She took the brunt of the flour."

"Ah." Dipper's smirk grew. "Mabel's always telling me the stuff that you two do, and so I think I've got a pretty good idea about what she thinks. But I'm curious, and I hope you'll humor me," he started. "How do _you_ think you two are doing? 'Cause, I mean, from an outside point, though it may pain me a bit to say it, you seem to be doing well. And I can't deny that you make Mabel really happy."

"Rea – ," his voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "Really?"

"What, you're gonna make me say it again?" Dipper joked. "Now, I feel it my duty to poke around every now and then to make sure she won't make any horrible mistakes, so be honest." He grabbed a nearby pen and flipped open his journal. "Tell me what you think."

The olive man bit his lip. His eye avoided contact of any sort with the person standing in front of him. The room felt stuffy and he felt if he was sweating bullets.

"Are... are you okay?"

"Yep! I'm fine – _we're_ fine, I mean. Noth-nothing interesting happening now or anytime soon. You certainly don't need to write anything down."

"Bill? Is... Is something going on?" Dipper asked sternly.

"Um, uh, I-I– _Eam amo, eam amo tam et ea es pulchra et jocosa et illa facit humanus percipio me, et iussit abumptus illam eram sed meus delere_ _primum __cupio et __**ducere uxorem Mabilia volo**__!_" He clamped a hand over his mouth, surprised those words came out of his own mouth. And even worse: he meant them. His faced flushed a beet red.

Dipper stared blankly. "Uh, Bill?" he asked.

_"__I'm sorry, I panicked! You being all doctor-y taking notes wasn't helping! Please don't kill me!"_

"C'mon, I was kidding with the writing stuff down. English, please; I only took a year-and-a-half of Latin. And that was a while ago."

The ex-demon took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. As his year went by, he noticed it was harder to blame human emotions for things. "Well, you see, uh..." His calm hands began to tremble. He began to wring them, but tried to hide it. "It was just nonsense. Don't mind me." He could tell Dipper was getting suspicious.

"Bud." Dipper enunciated, "Come on. Translate."

Bill tensely pulled his lips back in a forced smile. "I just said that I... wanted to m-marry Mabel?"

Dipper shut his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling slowly. He looked back at the flour-dusted man. "What was that?"

"Nothing!" Bill squeaked.

"You want to do _what_?" Dipper nearly yelled.

Bill could form nothing beyond a mindless stutter attempting to form an excuse.

"Excuse me, but you've only been living here for_ how long_ and you want to do _what?_" Dipper raged.

Bill's laugh began nervously. "I know, I know, I know. But, I mean, I promise I wasn't lying when I said all of that. I-I really do think she's funny, and s-she's really a cute sugar plum, isn't she? A-and she makes be feel the best about myself I've felt in... forever." His laughter turned into a smitten giggle as he rambled.

Dipper rubbed his forehead. "Oh, jeez. Do you realize that us _humans _take something like _marriage _really _seriously?_ I thought you told Mabel you didn't know how long you'd stay like... _this,_" he said, gesturing to Bill.

Bill attempted to wipe his hands on his pants, but only came away with more flour. "I should know more about matrimony than the average fellow; I've been around longer than the concept itself. I've seen a million of them work and a million of them flop. And I-I know what I said, but – "

"How could you possibly take care of her, then? To be there one day and to just disappear the next; don't you realize how much that'd hurt her?"

_**What **_**do**_** you think you're doing?...**_

_**You have precious time left...**_

_**To have her extinguished or to leave her broken-hearted while you burn for eternity? Which fate to choose for your Star?...**_

Bill gritted his teeth, pushing them out of his head as best he could. He didn't have the time for them today. "I promise, I'll do everything I can to keep her safe if I do." His eye twitched. "I-I'll do everything in my power to keep her out of harm's way, and until then, I... I want to spend the rest of my time here with her." Bill ducked his head. "Please."

Dipper stood there. His expression didn't read of anger like the both of them expected, but more one of confusion, and maybe a hint of... sympathy? Against his better judgement, he sighed. "I... I need to talk to Stan." He cursed to himself under his breath as he ducked out of the kitchen.

The heavy steps that emitted from under him drew his great-uncle's attention away from the television. "Kid?" Stan asked. "What's ruffling your feathers enough to give ya that look?"

Dipper looked back to the kitchen, before speaking in a low voice. "Grunkle Stan, I..." He paused to collect his thoughts. "Uh, so, we all know that Bill's been here for a while and he's been working for us, and of course it didn't take long for Mabel to crush on him and then they've been stuck like glue since and – "

The older man groaned, taking a swig out of a can of Pitt. "Get to the point already; you're killing me faster."

Dipper swallowed hard. "He just told me he wants to marry Mabel."

Stan choked on his drink, sending him into one of his coughing fits. "Now there's a spit-take." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, if you're pullin' my leg, then it's not funny."

Pine Tree began to pace the room. "I wish I was, Stan, but he just blurted it out. I wish I could tell if he was lying or not. He sounded so passionate, a-and he wouldn't stop with the mush!" He sighed. "Stan, what do I do? What do I tell him?"

"Well, what does Mabel think of 'im?"

Dipper stuttered, "Uh, well, you've seen her, right? She really likes him – really _really_ likes him – , and this is the longest by far she's ever been this obsessed with someone but – "

"But what?" Stan interjected. "Take it from an old geezer like me; I've seen marriages with a shorter courtship than theirs do better than ones that take years to get anywhere. And they have the added bonus of living and working together under one roof to test their waters."

Dipper's felt chills pour through his veins. "Wh... what are you saying?"

Stan sighed, turning off the television. "Kid, look, I know what you think of the guy. You see him as the the same demon we trumped years ago. But he's here now, and I'd say he's proved to have a better work ethic than I ever had at, uh... what does he look like, twenty-something? Sure his past ain't that of a saint's, but Mabel has the right idea when she says that people can change, granted if their motivation is strong enough. As corny as it sounds, maybe she's his motivation. Just a guess.

"She's a passionate kid – no, adult – and as hard as I look, I don't think Bill has any bad intentions. Hasn't gone against his word as far as I know. Honestly, I can see 'em makin' it work." He chuckled. "Now, if you told me this a few months ago, I would have beat his face in immediately."

Dipper attempted to form a counter-argument, but couldn't think of anything to say. As far as he knew, Stan was right. Bill hadn't seemed to have been doing anything shady under their noses – nothing missing from around the house or from the cash register or anything like that, and no hints of demon business as far as he could tell. And, as he had stated before, he couldn't deny that they both meant something really special to each other. He nearly gagged at the thought.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead. "All right, I guess I get to break the news."

Bill looked up from his twiddling fingers at the sound of Dipper's sneakers on tile, a hand still covering his face. Bill swallowed hard.

Dipper sighed for the umpteenth time that evening. "Listen, Bill – "

"_I'm sorry!_" Bill, in panic, interrupted. "_I-I swear it won't happen again. Please don't kick me out! It won't happen again!_"

"Slow down, we're not gonna kick you out. We'd be digging our own graves if we did that."

Bill's muscles began to relax, but he felt he was still in the woods. He hesitated to ask, "... And?"

Dipper took his time removing his hand to look in Bill's general direction. "You know that I've had trust issues with you, it's no secret, and I find Stan's opinion on things to be rather important, and people say to listen to your elders and I'm gonna trust him on this because he probably knows more than I do but – " He stopped himself. "I know; I'm just avoiding saying it."

"Wh... what?"

Now he had Bill's attention. He groaned, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of him. "He might have said that he thinks that you've improved enough and that you might be okay," he mumbled. He stared Bill down. "But if you hurt Mabel at all, you'll have to answer to me."

Dipper's gaze showed no camaraderie, but Bill overlooked it in an instant. His eyes widened into saucers. "Wait, are you... are you serious?"

Dipper pouted. "I'm serious about not saying it twice."

The blond's next sound was nearly inhuman as he scooped up the smaller man in front of him, giving a big, powdery hug. His squeaks were impossible to decipher, but anybody listening could tell of his immense joy.

"This is fairly unorthodox," Pine Tree managed to wheeze from inside the death grip. "And weird. Too weird. It's too late to retract anything, isn't it?" He only got more delighted squeals as a reply as he choked on the stirred up flour.

Footsteps descended the stairs and Mabel came up behind the two, clothes clean and hair wrapped neatly in a towel. "Hey! Look at my two guys huggin' it out! What's the occasion?"

Bill looked over at her, his beaming smile growing at her sight. "Pine Tree? Oh, he was feeling left out." His face contorted into a grin. "But here we are covered head-to-toe, and you don't have a single fleck of dirt on you." He released his grip on Dipper to begin slowly creeping up on his twin.

"Bill," Mabel warned, "Don't you dare."

Bill suggestively raised an eyebrow, and paused only a second before launching himself at the Mabel. The brunette shrieked, scrambling in the opposite direction. "_No! I just got out of my second shower today!_" she giggled, fleeing the scene with Bill hot on her heels. "_Don't you touch me before you take one!_"

"Come on!" he shouted after her. "You can't escape it! You know you want one!"

As he watched his sister and potential brother-in-law dash about the house in glee, Dipper began to question his life choices leading up to today.

* * *

**Cutesy-cutsey stuffs *eyebrow wiggle***

**Have some more Latin homework. Man, I wish I could find my old Latin textbooks because that could have been a heck of a lot easier to write. And google translate will butcher it if you try to translate more than three words at a time, so I can understand if literally no one looks up the translation themselves. (but I worked so hard on it so please tell me if I got it wrong so I can promptly fix it and then bang my head against a wall)**

**Cheers.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Man, I...**

**I'm such a turd.**

* * *

Frenzied thumps sounded from the ground floor. Decorations were being thrown up haphazardly while boxes were being sloppily wrapped. A frantic look was tossed at the cuckoo clock hanging in the living room. "What time did Dipper say the appointment would be over?" Mabel questioned Bill.

"What time is it now?" Bill shot back, setting up the spare party hats in a box on a table.

"Almost ten," she replied.

"We've got about fifteen or so minutes." He grabbed a party hat and placed it on the dinosaur skull. "But I think we've covered just about everything. Go team." He raised a hand, and Mabel met it with her own in a tired high-five.

Bill leaned himself over the old recliner, resting his forearms on its back. "Expecting good news," he empathized. "I mean, this is just a little, you know, routine check-up, right?"

Mabel sat down in the chair and looked up at him. "We're hoping it stays that way. If I'm honest, we could get something unexpected. Fingers crossed." She reached a hand up to his arm. He placed his own hand on top of hers.

"I'm sure Stan'll be fine. After all, he's a Pines." He laughed. "Probably the toughest one there is." His hand lifted itself to his eye. "He's quite the fighter."

"After this past year in particular, he deserves a good birthday." She sighed, sinking deeper into her seat. "I'm glad we got everything together in time."

Bill hummed happily, pulling out the checklist Dipper helped them make from his coat pocket. "Me, too. We've got the presents, balloons, streamers, party hats, the drinks, the snacks, the..." He went quiet.

"What?" Mabel interrogated. "Did we forget something?"

Bill looked down at her. "Mabel, we forgot the cake."

Her face drained in color. "What?"

His head twisted to read the clock and spun back around to tell her, "We have time but we gotta go _now_."

The two took a moment to stare at each other in sheer panic before scrambling for the front door, tripping over their feet the whole way. The screen door flung open with vigor and yellow and pink streaks bolted down the driveway, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. "Out of all things," Mabel panted, "why did it have to be the _cake_?"

"_Just. Shaddup. And. Run_," Bill breathed between strides.

Their footfall didn't miss a beat when the dirt road shifted into concrete. The distance to the convenience store wasn't far now. They skidded to a halt in front of the doors, and Mabel's hand flung down to the door handle. She yanked with the force of a mighty lion, but nearly dislocated her arm when the doors stayed fast shut. "What the – ?"

"Out to see the game. Back in a few," Bill read on the paper taped on the inside of the glass door. "P.S., don't tell my boss." He threw his hands in the air and stomped past Mabel. "Great! This is where we ordered it from! Now what do we do?"

Mabel paused only a second before clapping her hands and pointing finger guns at him. "The bakery!" She grabbed his arm, prompting him to dash after her. "It's just down this way!"

"There's a bakery here, too?"

"Just shut up and run!" Mabel shouted him down. Bill's longer legs outstrided her easily and he reached the end of the block before Mabel.

"Which way?" he demanded.

"Left!" she shouted ahead. Bill darted halfway across the street, causing a car to swerve around him. "No! My left!" she scolded him, pointing around the sidewalk corner.

"Mabel! We had the same _right_," he corrected her, nearly skidding past the doors she had ducked into.

He came in to see Mabel with her hands on the counter speaking intently to the baker. "We need a birthday cake _now_."

The baker turned away to pull a batch of rolls out of the oven. "I apologize, sugar, but I'm afraid I only make those upon preorder." He rested an elbow on the display case, a relaxed smile one his face. "May I have the chance interesting you folk in a danish or three?"

Bill stepped forward, removing his top hat to tussle his hair back into place. "Sir, we don't have time for this. Don't you have anything? Even a, a day old one that someone forgot to pick up would work."

The baker's face turned hostile. "We have danishes. Now, help yourself to some, or you're welcome to leave." He stared the couple down.

Mabel looked at Bill, Bill looked at Mabel, and the two sighed. He fished in his coat pocket. "Can you still write 'Happy Birthday, Stan' on it?" He placed some dollar bills on the counter.

The baker's bushy mustache crinkled up with a smile and he took the pastries out of the display case. He took them into the back to prepare them, leaving Bill and Mabel in tense silence. Her foot tapped the floor very rapidly and very loudly with a very uncharacteristic look about her face. Bill turned on his heel to lean against the counter, hands in pockets. He took another look at her before sighing. "It's just a cake, you know."

Her tapping became slowed as she eyed him from the side. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged a bit, stressing, "I _mean_ that it's just a cake. Not a whole lot's riding on it if we don't get the right kind or get it in time. You're acting as if this going perfect will keep the earth from falling into the sun," he chuckled awkwardly.

She kept her eyes to the back room door. She didn't respond immediately. "Well, it kinda _is_ important." She let her hair slip from behind her ear, framing her face. "I can imagine_ you _wouldn't really understand, but... I hate to admit it, but Stan's getting older. I'm not so sure how many birthdays he has left. And depending on how the doctor says he's holding on," she paused, holding her arms close to her stomach. "This could be his last one. I want it to be as good as we can possibly make it."

Bill stayed quiet, staring at her for a moment longer before looking at the floor.

Mabel sucked a breath in, pushing her locks back into their rightful place. "Sorry if what I said sounded kind of mean, I'm just a little frazzled."

He moved closer to her and gave her arms a comforting rub. "Oh, my Shooting Star. Always looking out for those she loves." He gave a quick peck to the top of her head. "Whatever we get thrown together, I'm sure Stan'll love it. He loves everything about you and everything you do."

She flashed a quick grin, but her mood remained unwavering. "He's always joking about his own mortality ever since losing Great-Uncle Ford again out at sea like a cruel twist of fate. It just..." She curled into his chest. "It makes me depressed."

Bill comfortingly pat her head. "Well, you're right in that I probably don't understand to the extent you do about what it feels like, but I do get one thing. Time is an eternal thing, and it's daunting to view it through a mortal perspective. And there's no way to look past time to see the other side of it the way we are right now." He reveled in the feeling of her relaxing. "Not knowing things is utterly petrifying. I've only figured this out recently.

"Another thing I know, and it's something I've known for quite some time, is that not knowing if you'll see someone dear to you ever again is... it is very hard. The only thing you can do is hope for the best for them and make sure your own life is in check." He moved her shoulders, and she looked up at him. "The most important thing to know is that whatever happens was supposed to happen, and anything else would take away something important."

"If this is his last birthday," Mabel's quiet voice asked, "do you know if I'll ever see him again?"

Bill gently squeezed her, his face scrunching. "I can't..." He paused. "I'm not in a position to answer that for H – "

The baker burst into the room, loudly humming a song to himself and carrying a tray with the danishes under a plastic lid. "Here you are, loverly customers!" he sang. He thrust the tray into Bill's arms with greater force than the ex-demon was expecting. "Now y'all have a nice day, you hear?"

Mabel shouted a "Thanks!" before dashing out of the store. Bill hung back to give an odd look to the rather odd man before following in her steps.

Hearts beat inside skulls as the two made the final stretch up the driveway. "Is he back?" Mabel wheezed. "Doesn't look it," she heard from in front of her. Home base came into view as they rounded the hill. "We're gonna make it!" she shouted joyfully.

The sound of car tires scraping gravel hit them in the gut. "I wouldn't count my chicks just yet." He grabbed hold of Mabel, pulling her into a bush. "_Move!_"

They watched through the leaves as _El Diablo_ rolled passed them. Mabel whipped out her phone and clicked Dipper's name.

"_What's up?_"

"Dipper, we're not done yet."

"_Wh- did you forget something?_" Dipper's voice was muffled.

"Shhh! Stall for just a few minutes. Don't go inside yet."

"_How-_"

Mabel hung up unceremoniously, wiggling out from the bush. She grabbed Bill's hand and lifted him up. "Food still alive?"

He stared at the container. "Uh, it hasn't been destroyed yet, if that's what you mean." He continued the trek up to the Shack. "Put some hustle in your bustle; clock's ticking."

"Any idea how we're gonna sneak inside passed them?"

Bill thought for half a moment before snapping his fingers. "The kitchen window's lock can be wiggled open with some elbow grease. Dipper should be bringing Stan through the front, so as long as we're sneaky we should be safe."

Mabel paused, staring after him before jogging to catch up. "And... how would you know that?"

Bill smiled. "Oh, I know lots of things." He laughed. "Well, not as many things as I used to, but I have a few useful tricks still left in there." He tapped his temple.

"Remind me to fix that lock later," she grumbled.

A quick glance at the car to ensure it was empty and they darted to the back porch. Bill set the cargo on the aged wood before rubbing his hands. "Welp, here goes nothin'." He set his palms firmly on the widow rims and used all of his strength to jiggle it up and down. "Mabel," he strained, "help." She put her hands besides his, and their combined forces slid the window open.

"Ladies first," Bill addressed her, gathering the cake. Her demure stature made it easy for her to hoist herself through, but her companion's taller frame made for an awkward fit. With his shoe still caught on the widow frame, both of them felt their blood chill when they heard Stan announce:

"Kid, I know what the exhibits look like. You're doing a bang-up job, all right? Keeping everything in check. Now I just want a Pitt and a relaxing rest of the day."

Mabel swiped the tray from Bill's hands and sprinted to the den. The thud of the tray being slammed onto the table and the thud of Bill's back whacking against the linoleum floor sounded in unison just before the "Employee's Only" door creaked open. "Now let me just... What's this about?"

Dipper's voice squeaked "Grunkle Stan, wait!", but he was too late. Stan was busy taking in the scene before him, with his grand niece grinning before him and her love limping in from the kitchen. "Happy birthday, Grunkle Stan! We love you!" Mabel declared.

The aging man gazed at the setup, then back at Dipper. "Wh... what's all this?"

Mabel stepped forward. "It's a party. For you."

"It took some planning to get it together without you noticing," Bill added.

"We hope you like it," Dipper said, joining Bill and Mabel in the center of the room. He took off his vest and threw it onto the recliner. It landed with a bounce.

Mabel began to frown when her uncle remained silent. "Do you... do you not like it?"

Stan reached under his glasses to rub his eyes and attempted to muffle a sniff. "No, no, it's just... the exhibits are dusty. Someone needs to give 'em a good cleaning." He opened his arms. "Now get in here before I make someone clean 'em now."

Mabel was the first to run up and embrace her dear Grunkle, soon followed by Dipper. Stan gave two weak noogies, but looked over their heads to the man standing apart. "Hey," Stan called. Bill's head perked. "If I know Mabel, then I know she made you have just as big of a part in this as these two stinkers did." He crooked his fingers towards him. "Join 'em before I change my mind."

Bill treaded over towards the group, but Mabel made quick work to pull him in.

"I couldn't've asked for better family, ya know," Stan commented, giving them all a squeeze. He shook them off. "Ugh, that's enough sap for the _week_, am I right? Let's go enjoy this party."

Dipper walked over to the table and popped the plastic lid off the tray. "Mabel, are these... are these danishes?" he quizzed.

"We had to improvise," Bill answered for her.

"Potato, potahto," Stan commented. "Still a pastry as far as I'm concerned."

Dipper only shrugged, cutting a piece off for everyone. Stan shuffled over to his chair to eat, pushing off the vest before sitting down.

Pine Tree eyed him as he took his first bite, but soon took his twin by the arm, leading her past the "Employees Only" door, a grim look on his face. Bill could barely catch him whisper, "_Hey, it'll be a while until the blood work gets back, I have to tell you that Stan..."_

The blond's face flashed with worry before he turned to the man all their hassle today was about.

"Not to be a bother," Stan said with full cheeks, "but could you put the goober's coat up? He's always leaving it lying around. Thanks in advance."

Bill bent down and plucked the garment from the floor. He headed towards the back door with the intention to hang it on the coat rack, but paused halfway. He weighed the vest. His hand guided itself into the inside pocket and grew clammy at the sensation of aged paper. The Journal. The spell to bottle a human soul, and the closest thing to certainty for his fate.

_**Take it.**_

"Wh... what?" he mumbled.

_**Take **_**it.**

_**Take the spell.**_

"But I don't, I don't want t – "

_**You give up that easily?**_

_**You're the great Bill Cipher.**_

_**You slaved for over a thousand years for the chance to shape reality to your whim.**_

_**And you'd give up your own **_**existence**_** for the girl who helped thwart all of your hard work?**_

"It's not," he sighed, "it's not exactly... like that." He rubbed his forehead with a pained expression. "Please, be quiet."

_**Don't lie to yourself.**_

_**Denial never solved anything.**_

_**You know it's either her or you.**_

_**It's just one page; he won't notice it missing.**_

"I-I won't."

_**Just take it.**_

"I can't."

_**Take it.**_

He wrenched the Journal from its rightful place.

**Take it.**

"I-I can't."

His fingers mechanically leafed through the book and tore the coveted page from its binding.

"I... can't."

His legs steered him in the direction of his room. He threw open the nearest drawer and stuffed the paper in. He stared at the sheet, a pit forming in is stomach.

"Oh, what am I doing?" he lamented, shutting the drawer with a trembling hand.

_**The only reasonable thing **_**to **_**do.**_

* * *

**I want to sincerely apologize for not updating like I should. It's true that things got a little weird and wild, but that's no excuse for neglecting this story like I did. Four-and-a-half months is too much.  
**

**On the other hand, I want to thank you from the bottom my heart for over 100 followers. Clap that up. That is beyond fantastic, and I could've only hope this would ever reach half that amount back in this story's baby stages. Again, thank you. I'm even thinking of turning this into a book one day. Minus the copyrighted characters, of course.**

**I promise I won't leave this story dead in the water like that again if I can help it.**

**Cheers.**


	18. Chapter 18

Cipher's leather-bound fingers rhythmically drummed against the plastic shell of the object he held behind his back. The soles of his shoes scuffed the hallway as he made his way towards the sounds of television. A Saturday morning like this one became one of his favorite things very quickly, but he felt as if the last few weekends were... lacking. Not that days of pure relaxation were not welcome, but he felt that one needed some spice in life. And he knew just how to add some not just to his day, but hopefully to his lady's day, as well.

He rounded the corner into the living room, where the warm sight of Mabel curled up next to her Great Uncle watching an old cartoon on the tube greeted him. Bill softly smiled.

"Mabel," he singsonged. She looked away from the screen.

"Yes?" she asked, an exaggerated smirk on her face.

"If you have a few minutes to spare," he proposed, "I would like to suggest something."

"What?" she asked in anticipation.

"You have to close your eyes, first. And hold out your hand." She complied. He caught Stan rolling his eyes. Bill placed a yellow disposable camera in her palm.

She ooo'd, holding it tightly. "Thank you! This is gonna be so much fun to use!" She eyed him. "What'cha got planned, then? This can't just be it, if it's from you." Her heart began to race as she saw his eyes crinkle, even from underneath his eyepatch.

"And you would be right. We are going to take that camera," he pointed at the gadget, then swiveled his hand towards the back door behind him, "and _you_ are going take pictures of anything your heart desires in the great outdoors." He held his hand out to her. "Sound good?"

"That sounds amazing!" Mabel shouted. "Oh, one second." She faced the lens towards herself and held it in the air. She squished herself next to the elder Pines. "Smile!"

"Kid, what are you – "

She snapped a photo, giggling at the shutter's sound. "This is too cool! I haven't used one of these in years!" She grasped Bill's waiting hand and pulled herself up. She made a beeline for the back porch, pulling Bill after her. "Bye, Stan! See you when the film runs out!"

Stan rubbed his eyes from the flash. His gravelly voice scolded, "I want her back as soon as possible, you hear? No funny business."

"If that is your only concern," he said over his shoulder, "we promise we'll be good children. With all of your signs everywhere, I know to keep my hands off the exhibits." Mabel gasped and smacked him upside the head. He snickered, catching his falling hat.

She opened the door and jogged outside on the porch, breathing in the warm March air. She exhaled, a grin forming on her lips. "World, prepared to be photographed!" She hopped down the steps and headed into the middle of the yard. "Where should we go first?" she questioned herself out loud.

The screen door shut itself behind the two as Bill joined her. "I thought the woods would have been your first pick. After all the time you used to spend in them."

"The woods!" She danced excitably. "Oh, I haven't had a good explorin' since I was a kid!" She skipped along the path towards the tree line she and her brother had traversed countless times nearly eight years ago.

* * *

_Click._

The shutter from the camera startled the butterfly from its resting place; beats of vibrant red flickered passed Shooting Star. "I hope that one turns out good," she commented. "Not every day you get a photo opportunity like that."

"Ah, I'm sure every photo you take will be perfect," Bill drawled, perched on a rock on the other side of the clearing. He let a leg dangle while his scruff rested on a hand. "You have a knack for this sort of thing."

She picked at the clumps of moss around her knees, eyeing him with a coy smile. "What could you mean by that?" Darn, he was cute with that half-lidded smile of his.

"My dear, nearly every photo of yours I've seen has life breathed into it. Any creative hobby you touch you're magnificent at."

Mabel held one hand to a cheek and waved the other one. "Oh, stop it, you. You're making me blush."

" 'Tis true, my Shooting Star." He hopped off his perch to saunter over to her resting place. "You've got a knack for it."

She handed the camera up to him. "You wanna take any pictures of anything?"

He plucked the object from her fingers. "I'll take a crack at it. Why not?" He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked around. "Not a whole lotta muses around when I decide to snap some photos, are there?"

She turned when the rustling of some low-hanging leaves caught her eye. "Over there!" she whispered. He glanced just in time to see a much smaller-than-average gnome tumble out from his cover. Bill's eye widened, a grin slipping on his face. He dashed to the bushes. The gnome hissed and scampered underneath a twig just as Bill pushed the button. "No, wait! – " He sighed. "Guess we'll have to wait to see if that turns out all right."

Mabel sat up. "What was it?" she asked with earnest.

"A wee gnome that wandered his way into some sizing crystals." He hummed, amused. "Almost forgot stuff like that's still around, what with being so distracted with everything else lately." He tossed the camera back to Mabel, who had to lean to catch it. "Funny, considering so much my life revolved around it in the past."

"You've been preoccupied with other things," she told him. "You've traded being the master of shady deals for being the master of fake taxidermy and housekeeping. And the master of being really cute, to boot," she swooned.

Bill rolled his eyes with a smile. "Now you're making _me_ blush, dearie."

Mabel shifted her position, picking off bits of dirt that now clung to her legs. "I've always wondered if it would be fun, going off, doing whatever you want, telling famous people what to do. I mean, I can see the appeal."

Bill chuckled. "When you've got nothing else to do for centuries, a little manipulation can be entertaining. Like there was that one time I..." He pursed his lips, scratching at a sideburn. "I... I can't, really remember. I know Plato was involved, but other than that," he shook his his head, the screens becoming more fuzzy with his attempts. "Nope, I got nothing." He turned to her. "Shame. It was a good story, too."

Mabel shrugged and gave him a smile. "Maybe a human brain limits how many details you remember?"

Bill shook his head again and sat down next to her. "Theoretically, even though I've made a lot of 'transactions' in my time, I should be able to remember most, if not all of them. An incredible piece of engineering, the brain is." He slumped. "Guess those memories were too closely tied to my powers for me to have now."

"That means you get a clean slate, right? It's easier to forget the past and move on?"

"Well, not exactly. I still know what I've done. I've done a lot of less than honorable things, to sugar-coat it. Well, forget the sugar-coating, I'm horrible. Playing with mankind like a puppet on a string, getting power hungry, nearly wiping this little hick town more off the map than it already is. In a way I'm glad I haven't forgotten that but I'm sure it'll haunt me until the day I die and them some."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Bill. Bill, Bill, Silly-Billy Bill," she uttered. "Okay. You've done things. You've hurt people. And that's terrible, I said it. But really, I'd be lying if I said we all haven't done terrible things. I've hurt my brother loads of times before, but you already knew that. And he's hurt me back. But we were able to forgive each other, and more importantly, we were able to forgive ourselves.

"I can't speak for everyone, but I want you to etch into that clever brain of yours that I forgive you for all that, and...," she paused. "And I want you to be able to forgive yourself, too. Everyone deserves a second chance. Stop beating yourself over the head over something you can't change but you can walk away from." She straightened herself to look him in the eye, giving him a supportive smile.

Bill sat voiceless, his gaze fallen to the ground but directed at nothing in particular. Time seemed to slow. The brunette was about to break the silence when his mouth quivered open. "Mabel, I..." He turned to embrace her. "Thank you." He pulled her close, letting her hair cover his face. They remained like that for a moment longer before the blond huffed a brittle laugh. "I mean, I figured you had, but it's," he swallowed, "it's nice to hear. Now if only we could get the other townsfolk here to see your perspective. Sometimes I get the sense of a cold shoulder."

"Oh, hush, I'm sure everyone's learned to like you by now," Mabel assured. "Besides, they know I keep good company. They'll know you're a-okay."

Bill smirked. "Based on past romantic flings of yours, I dunno..."

She took a swipe at him. "Har, har." Her camera lens glinted in the morning sun. "This one will look nice in the scrapbook."

Bill hid his face. "Oh, but my eyes might be red and puffy. Give me two minutes in the powder room, I've gotta redo my mascara."

"Is _that_ how your lashes stay luscious?" she teased. A snort escaped her. "I'm imagining triangle Bill making sure his eyeliner is perfect while plotting world domination." She chortled again. "And it is great."

Bill scoffed. "Uh, it's eye paint for _men_. Anyway, hurry up and take a photo if you're gonna."

The woman pointed the lens back up at themselves but frowned when a muffled _click_ sounded instead of the shutter. She turned the camera over. "Drat. All out of film."

Bill pushed himself up. "Maybe we can get it developed somewhere before heading back?"

Mabel smiled, but shook her head. "Thanks, but I gotta pass. Grunkle Stan and I were hoping to catch a _Screwball Toons _marathon that'll be starting soon."

"Ah, priorities." Bill nodded. "We'll develop

them next time we're in town." He held out his elbow, and she stood up to link her elbow through it.

The pair strolled back to the Shack, arm in arm, in a tranquil hush. After several minutes of listening to their shoes crunch against the earth below, Mabel patted his arm. "Feel any better?"

"Hmm?" Bill glanced down before continuing his stride. "A bit of fresh air and sunshine can be just what the doctor ordered. And this spring breeze just wraps the whole day together in a rather nice way."

"No, I meant... never mind. Maybe it's best I don't bring it up any more. You've seemed tense lately, so it makes me happy to see you so peppy."

"Me? Tense?" He scoffed. "Why would I have any reason to be tense? On a day like this, how could anyone have a care in the world?"

Mabel looked down. "I suppose you're right. But still..."

"If you want to know someone tense, let me tell you about old J. F. K. Guy was a nervous wreck before making those films on President Trembly. I thought about helping him, but he simply knew too much for his superiors to let him keep running around," he put in.

"What?" she exclaimed.

Bill waved her off. "N... never mind."

"Hey," she added, "at least you haven't forgotten _everything._"

Bill smiled. "I guess I haven't. But, for the love of Pete, don't tell the CIA."

"Don't worry," she avowed. "You can trust me."

**Geez, I wish I could write faster.**

**But the great Cipher Hunt is the absolute best thing to happen all summer holy cannoli. Alex Hirsch is fan-flipping-tastic to set this up for us. He is amazing.**

**And the next chapter... won't be as happy. Just a heads up.**

**As always, I hope you liked it. Bill got his heart-to heart just like Mabel got hers last chapter. Came full-circle, I feel. And input is always appreciated *wink wink nudge nudge*, but only if you really wanna. **

**Until next time, cheers!**


	19. Chapter 19

Nothing felt solid. The whole day was a time warp. Raw emotions were the only tangible things, and even then they were muted to the point where they felt alien. As he clung to the wailing form, for she would otherwise collapse, Bill recalled their morning and mourned after its peace.

* * *

Pine Tree handed over the paper. "Got all that?"

A gloved hand took it. Bill glanced it over, then stuffed it in his coat. "Easy- peasy, lemon squeezy."

"Need any cash?"

Bill felt inside his trouser pocket. "I should be good." He headed for the door. "All right, gang, I'm out. See you in a few."

"Bye, Ci'!" Mabel called from the adjacent room.

As his coattails disappeared behind the door, the brunet scraped up his laptop and headed to the living room, where Mabel sat watching Dream Boy High. A lot this past week had been preparing for the families that visited during Spring Break, but he figured he could steal some time to himself as his twin was doing. He let fly a teasing groan when he perched onto the recliner's armrest. "Ugh, why are you torturing yourself with this technicolor garbage?"

She shrugged. "Eh, it was on TV. I wanted to watch it again, you know, for old time's sake."

"Personally, I've had my eyefill of... Tyler and Crack, I dunno their names."

She crossed her arms. "Don't you ever go back to things you liked as a kid for the sake of nostalgia?"

Dipper cracked a smile at her, opening his laptop.

The company of one was cherished by the other as the morning ticked by. Her show reached a commercial break, his internet page continued to buffer, and Grunkle Stan unintentionally found his cue to enter. He grasped the stairs' handrail with every step, a grimace on his mouth.

"Morning, Grunkle Stan," Dipper greeted with a smile, refreshing his page once again.

"Eh, mornin', kids," he said.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?" the young man asked, his ears perking at Stan's gruffer-than-usual demeanor.

"Nah, I think I just," he put a hand to his chest, "I think I ate something funky last night. No more cooking while scrapbooking, Mabel."

She hit the chair. "When else am I supposed to do it?"

"You can make time in the morning or something. I just don't wanna eat glitter glue with my hamburger helper, sweetheart." He shuffled to the kitchen. "Maybe some tums and a helping of bland oatmeal will hit the spot."

Dipper's attention was snatched to his computer that decided to breathe life once again. Soon following was piercing 80's synth as the movie resumed its airing. Dishes clattered around as Stan made his breakfast.

Another commercial break came and went, and... dishes were still clattering around. Dipper was beginning to find this odd. He set his laptop down on the dinosaur skull and moved to investigate. He knew how much Stan hated needing help for things – a man doesn't have dignity if he didn't have some autonomy, he would say – but they would let him take his time on the stairs and would discretely leave the food out where he could reach it; there was no kind of struggle in the past. "Grunkle Stan? You okay?" he asked, peaking around the corner like a small child.

Stan had pulled up a chair in front of the stove, sitting with his head nearly between his knees. He seemed to struggle for breath, but waived his grand-nephew off nonetheless. "I'm fine, quit your hovering. Just... just can't do as much movin' around as I used to." He chuckled, but Dipper was put off by his crumpled form.

"You... don't look too good." Dipper recoiled at the elderly man's harsh reply.

"Kid," he enunciated. "I am _fine._ Give me a minute and I'll pop back."

Pine Tree thought it suspicious, but played along. "Do you want any help?"

"I can do it." He was determined, and Dipper feared the consequences of getting in his uncle's way. "Well, please tell me if you feel anything else, okay?" he said, patting him on the arm. He withdrew his hand when he felt him wince, his creased skin clammy. "D... did that hurt?"

Stan groaned. "Yeah, well, what else is new? A different part of me hurts every day. It's an arm and chest day today."

Dipper pressed his fingertips into his palms. He swallowed. "Grunkle Stan?" he started. "Maybe I should take you to a doctor."

"For what?" the silver-maned man scoffed. "Being old?"

"Stan," Dipper pleaded, "this could be serious. Please, let me call an ambulance."

Stan groaned. "Don't do that. If it turns out to be nothing – and that's what it is – then you just wasted thousands of dollars on a fancy bus trip."

Dipper wrapped his arms around Stan's, tugging him out of his seat. "At least let me drive you. Please, we might not have a lot of time." He struggled against his great-uncle's dead weight, but he eventually complied.

"Ugh, fine. You won't let me even eat breakfast, will ya?"

Dipper led Stan, shambling behind him, into the hall in front of the back door. Mabel's program was muted and her brother saw her perched on the edge of the chair. "Dipper?" her shaky voice asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Mabel, get in the car," her twin demanded. "Stan needs a doctor."

Mabel brought her hands to her mouth, but Stan snorted. "Way to make it dramatic, huh? Now ya've scared her."

She leaped from her seat and rushed to their sides. She hated to think about it, but she knew her brother was right. Her Grunkle never showed any sign of weakness willingly.

* * *

A tote bag filled with goods bounced rhythmically against the shoulder he slung it over. His errand run had turned into a shamble due to the aloofness of a cashier. "Incompetent child," he muttered. "It's like he's asking to get fired. Poor Pines probably think I've died by now, that took so long."

He shook the dust from his shoes on the porch step, pushed passed the front door, and swung the bag onto the kitchen table. "Honey, I'm home!" he announced. He began setting things away, but stopped when there was no sassy reply. Or a reply of any sort. "Mabel?" He poked a head into the living room. "Dipper? Ol' pal?" His laugh was taut. "Where'd you run off to?"

He backtracked to the kitchen and finally took in the scene. "Stan?" he questioned. A bowl of sugar spilt, a chair pulled against the counter, and a bubbling cauldron of water nearly evaporated. His senses came back to him and he leaped forward to turn off the stove.

Where are they, he wondered. And what happened? He sighed. _I'm just being paranoid_. He called out again, "Dipper? Mabel?" He looked outside. The car was missing. "St... Stan?" Something was wrong. No denying that now.

He crossed the ground floor to the gift shop, gingerly lifting the phone off its receiver. He hesitated before dialing the number from memory.

_"__Bill?"_

Her hoarse voice cracked under itself. "Mabel?"

Broken sobbing filled his ear. His cold fingers gripped the phone as rustling came from the other end.

_"__Hey, listen,"_ Dipper spoke now. _"Please tell me you have money left over for a bus ticket."_

"Why?" Bill shot back.

_ "__Meet us at the hospital. Stan's taken a dive." _There is a pause. _"We might need some support." _

_"__Stay!" _he heard Stan shout in the background._ "Tourists might come!" _The tone dial buzzed.

Bill held the phone to his ear. If there was ever a bad time to stall, it was now. His family needed him.

He flew like he never had before with this pair of legs. Backtracking all the way to the street. He came to a screeching halt at the bus stop. A quick glance at the sign posted caused him to pull at his hair. Of course the Speedy Beaver schedule was going to work against him this one day he needed it. No buses for the next hour.

He crossed his arms and bit his lip, thinking of a viable plan "B". He idly watched the cars roll to a stop at the crosswalk. One of the cars caught his eye. He ran to the ritzy vehicle and rapped the glass. It whirred down.

A pair of sunglasses tipped forward. "What do you want, I don't give hand ou—" The blonde woman gaped. "Bill?"

"Llam— Pacifica!" he all but shouted in her face. "You gotta spare thirty minutes?"

"Uh, I guess, but why?"

He skirted to the passenger's side and threw open the door. "I need a lift. The fastest you can get me to the hospital, honeypants."

The light turned green, and Bill shoved her shoulder at her slow acceleration. She glared at him. "Are you expecting me to rocket off at warp speed or something?" Pacifica snapped.

"You have money! Social standing!" Bill yapped. "You can get out of a stupid speeding ticket!"

"What's even going on, anyway? Why would anyone hijack my morning drive like a mad man?"

"Because Stan is crashing," he told her, "and I'm sure Mabel could use both you and me."

Pacifica glanced at him, her face growing pale. She pursed her lips and slammed the pedal to the floor.

* * *

Doors slammed.

Footsteps echoed.

Neverending stairs.

The duo rounded a corner to the sound of crying. Dipper and Mabel stood outside a door, huddled together.

They became frozen in place. The four stared at each other.

Shooting Star's face crumbled. She fell into the arms of her best friends blubbering, pulling Bill and Pacifica tightly to her. Bill looked up at her brother. He pulled his hat over his eyes.

They were too late.

Trying to calm the hysterical girl, the group sat together, without a word, for as long as they could. The drive home was somber, but walking through the doors brought a sense of tranquility.

The next set of days was quiet.

Pine Tree, Shooting Star, and Cipher sat together at the table, the twins picking at their microwave dinners. Dipper dropped his fork and ran his hands over his face. "As terrible as this turn of events is, realistically we need to find some sort of will, if there even is one."

"Where would he keep something like that?" Bill asked.

"He keeps his arrest warrants under the rug in the gift shop," Mabel muttered. "Or maybe his safe?"

"There's no way we could just guess the combination," Dipper pointed out.

Bill chewed his lip. "Do you think he ever changed it?"

Mabel stared at him. "… Probably not?"

The blond pushed himself up and steered himself in the direction of the office the twins close behind him. The door squeaked as he pushed passed it, and he knelt beside the safe. "I hope I remember it right. Let's all say a hope and a prayer." He drummed his fingers into his palm before lifting his pointer to the keypad. He muttered, "13, 44,..." The safe beeped and the lock clicked.

They all crowded around the safe's mouth. Dipper picked up the stack of papers and began shuffling through them. "All right, let's have a look."

"This almost feels wrong," Mabel commented.

"We have to, Mabel," her brother told her. "Stan could have wanted to tell us something important or have legal documents we need for something."

"Knowing him, he would have burned anything like that."

"Anyway," he continued. "We have… , the deed, an extensive list of aliases, tabs on sales history, some notes on how to smuggle pugs…." He flipped a few pages farther. "Here we are." Dipper cleared his throat.

He read, "_I, Stanley Pines, resident of Gravity Falls, Oregon, do declare this my last Will and Testament. Legal jargon, more legal jargon, no one actually reads this part._"

"Read it anyway," she demanded. "I see that as rude. There could be something important in there."

"It actually says that; I read it word for word." Dipper held the paper so Mabel could see it.

Mabel sighed. "Classic Stan." She sniffed.

"_Now for the part that people care about,_" he continued, "_To my grand-nephew, Mason "Dipper" Pines: I leave the gold I have stashed in various places over the years. In the living room walls, under my mattress, out buried in the yard. It should be enough to help with whatever college plans you have. And funeral expenses because dying costs money for some ungodly reason. Happy hunting." _His eyes widened. "Whoa. We've literally been living on a fortune?"

"This is why buying gold was such great advice," Bill said. "Only true money, baby."

"_To my grand-niece, Mabel pines: I leave the Mystery Shack. Live in it, sell it, burn it to the ground, do whatever you want with it. Whatever you see fit. And one more thing: take care of your brother. Keep him grounded throughout his life, sweetie. Don't let him get too caught up in his Brainiac antics._"

Dipper paused. "Huh," he muttered. He read a section written in pen crammed underneath the text. "_And to Bill Cipher, I leave the contents of my old sock drawer. I'm sure you'll find something you could use in there. But if you put one toe out of line, I will haunt you for the rest of your life._" Dipper huffed. "Odd. Wonder what he means."

"I'm pretty sure it means he's gonna haunt him," clarified Mabel.

"Joy," Bill deadpanned. "More ghosts for me."

Dipper tapped the paper with a hand. "Welp, at least we found it in time." He stood. "Let's try to get to bed early so we can get tomorrow over with sooner."

They all headed back toward the kitchen, but Bill halted halfway there.

"Aren't you gonna come finish eating?" Mabel turned to ask.

Bill took some steps backwards towards the stairs. "I will in a bit, dearie, but I think I should collect whatever socks I was left. My last pair is getting holes." Mabel looked disappointed, but Bill held up his hands reassuringly. "I'll be quick, I swear." He disappeared up into the second floor.

The old wooden door creaked under Cipher's palm, and the dark room stared at him. The whole family had been avoiding the room for the past week, trying to pretend nothing had happened. It looked frozen in time, the mess about the room last touched by Stanly himself. The stale air wafted into his lungs.

The drawer quickly caught his eye, despite hiding in the shadows and faint lilac hue of the stained-glass window. Treading past the cold heater, he pulled open the top drawer. He dug around and placed a pair of boxing gloves and brass knuckles on the bed beside him. "At least it's more than the old man's whitey-tighties," he commented, opening the next drawer. One by one, he sorted the items: a few old photographs, a decade-old issue of _Gold Chains for Old Men_, a bottle of overpowering cologne, loose bills, some actual gold chains, and… wait.

Shoved in a dusty corner of the drawer, his fingers were drawn to a glint. He picked the small item up nimbly, and his jaw slacked at the sight. A humble, vintage diamond ring, marked with a clouded stone and scuffs. He buffed it against his jacket. Although its luster was lacking, it meant the world to him. It was Stan's blessing, in a way, and he was sure Mabel would love it all the more.

Stan's burial was in the Gravity Falls cemetery, placed next to his twin's memorial. His headstone, when finally erected, stood taller than Ford's by an inch.

* * *

**School's been... school's been tough. There's only a handful of chapters left. I can make it.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Tap, tap.**

Bill played with the engagement ring. _That funny thing_, he mused. With each passing day, its presence made him grow increasingly antsy. He continued tapping it against the wood of his desk. **Tap, tap.** He couldn't possibly do anything about it now. Two weeks into the mourning process, and Mabel was still not herself, to put it lightly. He only saw her a few times after the funeral; she had locked herself in her room, busy coping in her own ways.

He sighed, swiping the ring off the desk and quickly into his pocket. Stomach growling and with his overall resolve dissolving, he looked over at the clock near his bed. Past four. Had he eaten that day?

His chair scraped the floorboards. "Eating is so tedious," he murmured, attempting to levity his own dolor. Crossing his room and the adjacent hallway, he stumbled upon Dipper at the kitchen table, a cup of cold, black coffee in his grip. "You, uh, holding up all right?" Bill inquired, reaching for the butter in the fridge.

"Mmm."

Bill chewed his lip, grabbing a slice of bread. They were both hit hard. "Is she still locked away scrapbooking?"

"You know it."

Munching on his humble two-ingredient breakfast, Bill sat across from Pine Tree, drumming his fingers on the table. He sat quietly, thinking of what to say as minutes ticked by. "Uh…," he began. "I… finally got around to developing her pictures."

Dipper grunted, finally taking a sip of his drink. His face hid a pucker. "Are you gonna show me, or what?"

Cipher gestured to his bread. "Butter fingers; don't wanna stain anything. She'll probably glitz them up and put them in another of her scrapbooks."

Dipper cracked a smile, though not a completely authentic one. "You mean the one all about you, you narcissist?"

Bill flashed a bread-eating grin. "What can I say?" he said through a full mouth, "It strokes my ego."

"You are disgusting," Dipper chuckled. Bill hummed a chuckled back.

Pine Tree paused for a bit. "Especially if you still plan to pop the question to poor Mabel," he amusingly jeered.

Bill rapidly tapped the table, tossing his gaze about the room. "Ah, well, you know," he said, flushed, "eventually. Probably not for a while."

"Gonna do anything for it?" Dipper asked.

Bill exhaled a long stream of air. "I've been running over some plans. Dinner, a movie, I dunno. Maybe I'll get her friends in on it or do something stupid like charades."

Dipper took another sip of his coffee. "Oh yeah, I could see that."

There was a silence, but it soon grew uncomfortable. Wiping his fingers on the tablecloth, Bill looked up at the man sitting across from him, his face falling back to its original downcast state. He shut his eyes, giving a wistful huff. "You know," he began, "I keep expecting him to walk through the door. 'Quit slacking, do my laundry, don't wipe your slimy fingers on my tablecloth'."

Dipper hummed in acknowledgement, staring into the void of his mug.

The blond paused, his eyebrows marked with a curve of worry. He cleared his throat. "Uh, listen, I know I'm not the person to really understand what emotions you and Mabel dear are working through at this moment. _I'm_ not entirely sure what emotions I'm working through. You two were as thick as thieves with the old man. I, um…."

Dipper swallowed. Bill chewed his lip before continuing.

"But I think I'm beginning to understand it, at least on some small level. We're scared for the future, the present, for Stan…. I have a feeling on where he's ended up, but that doesn't make any of us, even me, miss him any less."

"Now is not the time for a soliloquy, Bill," Dipper commented. "Just… let everything run its course. Save your 'in-depth analysis' for the scrapbook."

Bill huffed. "Well geez, sorry for trying to be empathetic for once. Maybe you have a point; why worry and fight the things we can't change?" He sneered at the tile floor. "It's not like I'm new to that circumstance."

He placed his hands firmly on the table and pushed himself up. "As much as I've treasured our little chat, I hope your sister is in more of a talkative mood. I'm going to go see if she's okay." Dipper stared at the empty space before him as Bill exited and slunk up the stairs.

Approaching the closed door of the twin's bedroom, he couldn't help but note the eerie quiet. He lifted a fist to knock on the wood, but he halted. He held his breath, and placed his ear against the door. All he heard was muffled, heaving breaths and the sound of his own heartbeat.

A floorboard creaked under his shifting weight. All went silent. Bill froze, listening. With no response, he knocked on the door. "Shooting Star, dear? Can I come in?"

Still no response. He had just about given up on the whole endeavor and gone back downstairs when shuffling came from the other side. The doorknob twisted, and before him stood the most pitiful sight he had seen in years. He pinched his lips together, his heart breaking at the sight.

She was covered in stray splotches of glitter glue, her hair in knots and her eyes puffy. She looked like she hadn't stopped crying since that day. Bill's chest fell and he spread his arms. "Come here." Mabel took his offer and tucked herself away in his envelop. He combed her hair with his fingers, fruitlessly attempting to untangle it.

Her hot breath stung his shoulder. He hugged her tightly. Rubbing her back, he turned her gently to the spread on the floor. "What tornado tore through here?" he asked.

Mabel wiped her eyes against her sleeve. "Just been putting together some things," she mumbled. She nudged aside one of the several scrapbooks with a bare foot. "It helps me sort through stuff."

"Let me see?"

Mabel walked to her bed and sat down, patting the spot next to her. Bill joined her. She looked down at the open scrapbook in front of their feet.

The blond painfully held his tongue in the following silence. The atmosphere distorted into a heavy blanket with each tick of the clock. In the stillness, he retreated into his own thoughts. A dangerous feat in and of itself. It wasn't as if he hadn't had time for otherwise recently, but as of late, there had been an air of unpleasantness tied to it.

At least Shooting Star is okay. Relatively speaking.

Dipper looked happier today. As happy as he can be given the circumstance. That was the first time I'd seen emotion out of him in weeks.

He looked at the snoring lump at the end of the bed. And Waddles is the same as ever. At least he hasn't changed over the years.

His arm wrapped itself around Shooting Star's side. She leaned into him as he gently ran his hand over her arm. His thoughts slipped deeper and darker.

**_She seems so devastated about Stan. To have someone depart so suddenly takes its toll. Too bad it will happen again soon._**

**_Two of the people she loves the most gone in a flash. What kind of monster would trick her to fall in love only to shatter her soul?_**

**_Of course, that wouldn't happen if you had the spine to get your freedom back._**

**_What a doozey. First their poor, poor uncle and then the sister. On second thought, that wouldn't be much better, but it wouldn't concern you anymore at that point. You've never cared before, you can't care at all._**

Gray patches swam across the room as the voices multiplied. He was pulled from his vertigo by the sound of another voice.

"Is this normal?"

Bill turned his head, Mabel still staring at a photo on the floor. "Missing him like this. I mean, at first I was emotional," she huffed, "you saw that part. Lately, I just feel… hollow, I guess? I expected to be sadder at this point, but I'm beginning to wonder if I even have a heart anymore."

Bill felt a pit in his stomach grow. "Don't say stuff like that. At least in this case, you know the feeling is temporary." He saw Mabel breathe and blink, but she was otherwise immobile. A spark in her eye began to relight when he leant his side against hers and said, "You can't possibly be completely emotionally dead; I mean, you still love me, right?"

She pushed against him. "Gah, you're such a nerd." They both smiled, able to breathe easily once more.

"You still haven't showed me what you've been doing up here by your lonesome, dearie."

"Oh, right," she replied. "I was working on the memorial scrapbook, but that got to be too much pretty quick. Then I started on yours again, but I ran out of stuff to work with."

Bill sat forward. "Oh, right." He dug through his pocket. "I developed those photos we took together last month. I can't wait to see what you'll do with them." He pulled the stack of photos out to show her. Mabel began to smile, taking the pictures from his hand and eagerly cycling through them.

Something clinked to the ground. Bill looked in the direction of the sound and froze. The glint of the ring shone from the ground, having bounced several feet away, precariously perched on the edge of a hole in the floorboards. He kicked himself mentally. He had forgotten to put it away properly. Mabel paused from flipping through the pictures to follow Bill's stare. "Hey, what's –"

The fear of it falling into the depths of the house, never to be seen again, he lunged and scrambled onto the floor. "H-hey!" she shouted at him. "Be careful! Scrapbook paper creases easily!"

With the blond all but sprawled on the floor, he clasped the ring to the wooden board just as it was waving him goodbye. Any attempts of his to stay secretive from now on were pointless, as she made eye contact with the object only partially concealed by his hand. She began, "Is, is that –" a gasp cut her own voice out.

Bill threw a gander at the item, fumbling with it when he saw her expression. He stumbled for words. "Oh, oh no I-I uh.…"

From his position, he crouched, a knee stabilizing him on the ground. He held the ring out to her before he knew what he was doing. He slowly realized he was quite literally on one knee proposing to her, and his hands violently tremored. A panic-struck look graced his features, and he began betting on how soon he would black out as the tunnel vision got worse. "W-will you marry m-oh, _Deus miserere mei_."

Mabel's jaw gaped. "Are… are you pulling my leg?"

Bill's soul crushed inside him, his heart dropping into his stomach. His face paled. His body trembled. He babbled, "I-I'm so sorry, I know this is terrible timing and I was going to get a box for it and make you dinner and everything but I was waiting for a better time and this is horrible, _me paenitet, mihi ignoscas, ugh, _I'm such an idiot…." He gasped for breath, hung his head, and muttered a string of curses at himself.

Mabel slid from her spot on the bed next to him. She clasped her arms around his neck, exhaling into his collar. "Sure you are, but you're my idiot." She sat up, holding an open palm to him. "Give it."

He gazed at her hand, up at her face, which had a lopsided, tired smile, then back at her hand. He tentatively dropped the ring in her grasp. She promptly popped on the proper finger. Mabel leaned close; her eyes slipped closed, and she pressed her lips with her fiancé's. She beamed at him, his stubble tickling her chin. "Silly- Billy. 'Course I will."

Pulling away, she covered a giggle with a hand at the sight of a dumbfounded Bill. His eyes had glazed over and his cheeks burned. "What… just happened?" he drawled. His mind was in a fog; tingles flowed down his spine. He giggled in return, slurring with half-lidded eyes, "That last part was nice, though."

She held her hand out to him, rubbing her fingers against each other, which rocked the diamond back and forth. "What happened is that you just promised to plan with me and help me focus on something actually happy." She went in for a peck on his cheek bone. "Like a wedding."

* * *

Pacifica sipped her morning tea, legs crossed and pinky raised without a care. She had just set the cup down for a bite of her English muffin when her phone buzzed. Picking it up, she read the texts and raised an eyebrow.

_mabel's about to send u a pic. u better sit down! – Grenda_

_Just got a picture from Mabel, I win the bet ;) – Candy C._

Pacifica cocked her head. She jotted them both:

_What on earth are you two talking about? – NW_

A minute passed before her phone buzzed again. The woman impatiently picked it up and prepared herself for more shenanigans, but pursed her lips upon seeing an attachment from the Pines girl.

Mabel and Bill's faces shone through the phone screen, their features, but most importantly their mouths, hidden behind a ringed hand. An engagement ring.

Pacifica choked on her drink and nearly fell out of her chair.

* * *

**Heyo, everybody.**

**This chapter was... hard to write. For several reasons, the main one being that I REALLY didn't want to mess it up. Overall, I think it turned out fairly good.**

**Merry Christmas, happy holidays, and have a happy 2017.**

**Cheers.**


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